Emissary of Darkness
by Rocket Axxonu
Summary: When Yami Bakura stumbles upon a mysterious hidden platform, it seems the opportunity he's been waiting for has finally arrived. But why bother learning at a common, mortal school, when he already has an able host to do it for him?
1. Platform Nine and ThreeQuarters

A/N: This is a somewhat revised version of this fanfiction from when I first posted all these chapters (up to 38), reposted 9/10/11.

(Note, if you just came across this fanfiction and are reading it for the first time, please ignore this sections above the o's. If you're actually rereading this fanfiction, which I am very grateful and humbled if you are... you still can skip this if you want to. Just some stuff about the changes I've made.)

Soo, as I was reading over this fanfiction to prepare myself to finish the last several chapters, I gave into the temptation to do a bit of revising to make certain portions flow a bit better, to make it more interesting, more descriptive, etc. (I also felt the need to get rid of all those "..."s and question marks I was apparently so fond of in my teenage years, heh), and to correct some inconsistencies. I also added 'scene separaters,' though when I first wrote many of the earlier chapters, I was trying to write in such a way that I wouldn't need them... oh well.

Anyway, I've actually added quite a bit (a lot more than I intended, truth be told XD) and some parts may feel different or say something different altogether, but those changes probably won't have much of an effect on the fanfiction as a whole. I decided to keep the quote thing at the end which I had decided on a whim back when I started this fanfiction, but I have changed the order of the quotes and replaced ones that came from sources outside HP or Yugioh to make them slightly more relevant. (though admittedly not much)

Also, you should know I've left the author's notes/replies to reviews pretty much alone for nostalgia's sake, except to correct typos here and there, so some of what is said may be incorrect based on what is now written in the chapters. The new author's notes (though besides this first chapter, I will try to keep them to a minimum) will be the ones outside the 'o – o – o's.

This first chapter is probably more altered than the others, as I've revised it multiple times over the last few years (2008-2011). (:

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Another Yugioh/Harry Potter crossover, simply because there aren't enough of them in the world already. But I really have tried to make it a little different from the others...

Note: This is set right after Battle City and at the beginning of _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. Also, even though it's mostly Yami Bakura's pov for the first few chapters, this will mostly be a Ryou-centric fic. In this fic, I'll refer to Ryou as 'Bakura' and Yami Bakura will be 'the spirit.'

Warnings: rated 'T' mainly to be safe for now. There will probably be scenes a little more violent and graphic later on as the story progresses, however. Also, there will be spoilers if you haven't read the sixth or seventh Harry Potter book and if you haven't read the entire manga series of the original Yugioh (duelist kingdom, battle city, memory world, etc.).

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

When Yami Bakura stumbles upon a mysterious hidden platform, it seems the opportunity he's been waiting for has finally arrived. But why bother learning at a common, mortal school, when he already has an able host to do it for him? Yugioh X Harry Potter crossover (no shonen ai/yaoi)

Chapter 1: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

King's Cross train station stood, its interior colorful, bright, and bustling with activity as usual. Ordinary people waited for their trains, chattering on cell phones, talking with their friends standing nearby, or reading the newspaper. Some would check his or her watch from time to time, then glance nervously over at the giant clock at the very end of the station which read a quarter-after-ten.

Standing apart from these was one sixteen-year-old boy, leaning casually against one of the walls between the platforms. However, what led most all who passed him to tread carefully and walk as far from where the boy stood as possible without getting hit by oncoming trains, was likely not the hard glare etched on his face or his dark, muddy-crimson eye narrowed in an expression of irritation.

Pale, ghostly white skin and wild white hair contrasted sharply against the midnight black of his long trench coat. Everything about his appearance exuded an aura of a commanding confidence, as though he wanted to make a challenge. The very image of a troublemaker.

However, the most striking factor of his intimidating presence was the object that obscured almost half his face. The black silken scarf that had been tied tightly around the boy's head, so as to make certain there could be no chance of its slipping. The dark, high quality material kept the boy's left eye completely hidden.

The one visible eye flickered to one of those passing by him. A middle-aged woman. The boy slowly bowed his head forward until his long white bangs fell over his vision. When he lifted his head again, his lip was curled in a derisive sneer.

Of course, the spirit of the Millennium Ring had always known how pathetic and stupid mortals in general were. But he'd never anticipated that gaining the power to read their minds could possibly reaffirm it to this extent.

The spirit's eye flickered to the crowd before him once again, and a young man with a baseball cap came into his line of sight. The man was wandering by a little closer to the spirit than the majority of the others, paying more attention to the map clutched tightly in his hands than his surroundings. This one was as good as any.

The spirit closed his visible eye and bowed his head, just as before, as he concentrated. Then, slowly, the spirit felt his _other_ eye come into focus. This eye of gold, its bright glow concealed beneath the scarf, could not have seen the crowd standing before them, even if the spirit had removed the dark material from his face. Yet it did see. It saw things more clearly than his right eye ever had.

_'Huh...' _thought the man with the map. _ 'No, this isn't right. I already tried this way... Am I even at the right station?' _

The spirit pulled abruptly out of his mind. These foolish mortals, he thought. If they had to think at all, why not think about something of interest? But he supposed it was fitting – dull thoughts for dull existences.

But despite these snide musings, the spirit's breath had started to come a little faster during the exercise, a bead of sweat forming on his cheek. As he reached up to wipe the sweat away, his sneer melted into a grimace as his thoughts returned to other matters.

Only a short time ago, all his goals had come within his grasp. During the Battle City tournament, he had come so close to destroying the pharaoh and obtaining two more of the seven Millennium items he desired. However, not only had he failed to obtain either Malik's Millennium Rod or the Millennium Necklace, but Malik's dark side had managed to nearly crush him into submission.

Of course, he could never be completely destroyed. He was indestructible. But the loss of the items, in conjunction with the fact that the pharaoh had been the one to end up with both of them, was a blow indeed. He could not deny the large, gaping disadvantage he now had in relation to the pharaoh. The spirit could not hope to win against three Millennium Items with his one Millennium Ring...

But sitting depressed in Bakura's neat little apartment, surrounded by the evidence of the boy's obsession with RPG games and the occult stacked and arranged on shelves, wallowing in self-pity while wishing things had come out differently, was something for a pathetic half-wit mortal such as those this station was full of. Ones who truly wished for triumph never stopped moving forward, never ceased in constantly planning ways to reemerge from the depths of defeat, victorious. To come back, ever more powerful and vicious than before.

That's when it had come to him. The fact that, although he had lost at Battle City, he'd had another victory. Had he not already annihilated Pegasus at Duelist Kingdom? And when it was over, he had taken the spoils, achieving the right to the great power Pegasus had used. A power even greater, perhaps, than the powers the pharaoh himself had gained...

So the spirit took the same path as Pegasus, making the bloody sacrifice of his own – or, more accurately, his _host's_ – left eye in order to gain access to that power. Though he had been hoping to avoid this course of action from the start, since he would inevitably have to remove it again anyway when he went to place the seven items in the sacred tablet, those who truly desired victory had to accept that, in games of strategy, sacrifice was often necessary. What was a little pain and suffering, if it meant a second chance at the total defeat of your enemies?

Unfortunately, the spirit had soon come to find out it was not as simple as placing the Eye in his head and putting all its vast powers to use. Apparently, Pegasus had spent a great deal of time learning how to manipulate the eye to bring out all it could do. The creator of Duel Monsters most likely hadn't mastered all its power overnight. When the spirit had first put the Eye in, it took a great exertion on his part to use the power and he could only read the thoughts currently passing though the mortals' heads at that. So many new and enticing abilities within his grasp... yet he could not use them.

He'd been frustrated to no end by this revelation, though it mollified him a little when he'd found that the more he used the eye to read minds, the easier it became. So he'd made up his mind to 'practice,' for lack of a better word, with the eye until it became easy to use and he had enough control over the new powers to resume his pursuit of the Millennium Items.

At first, he spent many hours practicing with it in Bakura's home during summer break, since once he allowed his host control again, the naïve boy would probably begin to notice hours and even days of his life he'd totally missed. Not to mention the fact he now only had use of one of his eyes.

Even with this precaution of remaining at home however, Yugi and his annoying friends had quickly made this difficult as well. All during the break, they would come over to Bakura's house, knocking loudly on the door, asking if he was feeling okay or if Bakura wanted to go hang out with them some place, among other nonsense.

The spirit preferred they not see Bakura's face right then, though he doubted they would ever guess the real truth. It would only lead to many more annoying questions. He only ever spoke to them through the door and even that small communication was just to keep the fools Jonouchi and Honda from knocking it down. He supposed Yugi's motley crew made good subjects to practice his power on, if nothing else.

At first it was just irritating, but then the spirit began to think that, if this kept up, the Pharaoh might somehow learn of his endeavors. The pharaoh may already suspect something was amiss. It would be even worse when school started up again in the Fall, with not only Yugi and his friends bugging him, but Bakura's school would also be calling once he started missing day after day of school.

So the spirit resolved to leave Domino for a while on the pretense Bakura was taking time to visit some English relatives. Of course, the spirit could have gone anywhere in the world, but he chose to come to Bakura's old hometown of London after all as it would be easier to navigate a place Bakura had already lived at one time. Plus, Yugi and his friends could not speak English, at least not fluently. This way, it would be difficult to for them to follow Bakura, should some moronic sense of friendship or loyalty compel them to do so.

As Yami Bakura had vowed to learn to use the power of the Millennium Eye to its full extent before he returned to Japan to face the Pharaoh again, he'd gone to accustoming himself to the power by using it on random people at the crowded train station. Bakura had come to this station several times when he really had been visiting his relatives at different places around the country, so the spirit had no trouble finding his way around, though he found he didn't need to use the knowledge for the most part.

So that was why he currently stood in a crowded London train station, scanning the thoughts of whiny, pathetic mortals on that cool, September morning. And no, it did not bother him in the least that he was using time his host would have been spending in school for his own. Bakura shouldn't complain either – at least the spirit had notified the school that Bakura would be gone for some time.

The spirit's mind returned to the matter at hand. He looked for another victim to use his power on, hoping for something of slightly more interest than what he'd seen so far. He turned his head just in time for his dark eye to fall on another young person, more a boy than a man this time, pushing a cart with a caged owl on it. There was something odd about him besides the owl though, even if the spirit couldn't quite put his finger on it. Once again, he allowed the Millennium Eye to move in, invading the privacy of the boy's thoughts.

_'Platform four... platform five... Just a bit further. I've still got some time before I have to get to platform nine and three-quarters, I think.'_

Yami Bakura stopped for about three seconds, then swung around to put his full attention on the bizarre stranger walking by. His eye narrowed. Then, as though shrugging it off, the spirit looked away, shaking his head slightly.

An eccentric mortal, that one. Perhaps even insane, to keep an owl as a pet and think about train platforms that didn't exist.

Despite his condescending thoughts, the spirit could not stop himself from looking up again, and his gaze followed the boy's progress until he was lost in the crowd. The spirit shook his head again and resolved to pretend he hadn't seen the kid at all. Although, he had to admit, the eccentricity had made his thoughts slightly more interesting than the other mortals.

The spirit shifted his attention back to the throngs of people and resumed his practicing. Not ten minutes after this, however, he saw another boy. This one looked to be about ten years old and was carrying yet another owl, just like the other boy. He was accompanied by a nervous, jittery man and a frowning woman who the spirit could only take to be the boy's mother and father.

The spirit, curious of the second owl, eyed the group as they passed.

"What platform did it say again?" the man asked, the slight tremor in his tone reflected in his anxious expression.

"Platform nine and three-quarters, Dear," the woman answered with a tad of impatience, as if it were something she'd said a million times before.

"Oh. Er, you sure that one exists?" the man asked. He shot a glance down at his son, who bounced in excitement as he walked.

"Yes," the woman answered. "I told you, this is where I used to go too..."

However, the family moved out of hearing range and the spirit couldn't make out anything more they were saying.

The spirit frowned slightly in thought as he considered the oddness of this group and the boy he's seen earlier. He didn't know which was stranger or more of a coincidence: two people who both had owls for pets, or both talking about a platform with a fractional number.

Although the spirit doubted that whatever this meant would help him gain more power, he could not deny that his interest had been piqued. Anything was better than just continuing to stand here, fatigued from utter boredom.

Pushing himself up from the wall, he took off after the family. Several people who had happened to be passing by him jumped a little, startled by the spirit's sudden movement. By some of their reactions, scurrying frantically to get out of the teen with the trench coat's way, one might think that perhaps they were afraid he'd been making a move to mug them.

He ignored the frightened mortals however and, keeping his gaze riveted to their owl which was now screeching angrily, watched the family as they passed platform five... six... eight...

Keeping himself hidden amongst the crowd, he watched carefully as they passed platform nine. They seemed to have come to a stop.

Without closing his regular eye, he attempted to activate the power of the Millennium Eye. He would target the woman, he decided – she seemed to be the one in charge of this.

_' – confidence. Just go, don't think about it.'_

However, the spirit broke contact unexpectedly as he lost his concentration. He hadn't meant to, but as he'd been watching the family, he'd suddenly realized that the boy and his owl were gone. The spirit glanced around, completely at a loss as to what could have happened to the boy. However, as his gaze went back to where the two parents had been standing, just in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten, he saw that they had vanished as well.

He looked all around the area, wondering how they could have possibly escaped from view so quickly. They must have just gone on past platform ten, that was all – or somehow gotten behind it real quick. Walking all around the barrier, he looked down the length of both walls on either side. However, he saw no sign of them anywhere and cursed under his breath.

The spirit continued to look around for the better part of twenty minutes, getting more and more frustrated with every second. He even pressed his palms against the brick wall, looking for weakness or a secret switch, but of course, found none. Finally, just as he'd decided to give it up as a lost cause, he saw a gang of people coming his way. It wasn't the same one as before, but they had yet another owl. Determined not to lose them again, he moved surreptitiously around so that he was directly behind them.

This time, he did not distract himself by trying to read their minds. Instead, he just kept his eye trained hard on their group, the one with the cart that held the owl most of all. Just like the family, they came to a stop in front of the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

The group of rowdy teenagers, not more than thirteen or so, seemed to be accompanied by one older girl, probably about his host's age.

"All right, everyone," she called out. "Don't push – we have plenty of time. Take turns going through, okay?"

The boys didn't seem to be listening to her, at least about the pushing part, but they all backed up.

Then, to the spirit's surprise, one of them took off running, aiming straight for the wall. The other boys followed in a line just behind. However, instead of the crash that anyone might have expected, the first boy suddenly disappeared. Then the next one, and the next.

It took every bit of his concentration to see it happen – even the slightest bit of distraction like he'd had when he'd been reading the mother's mind from earlier made him miss the event and make it seem almost natural. Like they'd simply disappeared into a crowd, rather than into a wall.

He didn't have time to read anyone's mind – if he wanted his curiosity satisfied, he had to act quickly.

The spirit saw that the teenage girl hadn't gone through yet. Instead, she had noticed the spirit watching them and she just stared back at him nervously. Her eyes kept flickering back and forth between his trench coat and white hair.

Struck by inspiration, he made a split-second decision and stepped right up her.

"Would you mind telling me how to get to platform nine and three-quarters, Miss?" he asked in a perfect imitation of his host's polite expression and tone.

The girl looked a little taken aback for a moment, then, just as the spirit had predicted, a look of relief swept over her face. "Oh, oh yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were... you know."

"It's fine," said the spirit, smiling kindly. When it came to big secrets only known by a select group of people, those people often felt a security when they met someone else that spoke like they knew the secret as well. False security. "Sorry, but I've been having trouble today. Could you remind me what the trick is to getting on the platform?"

She smiled back, almost shyly. "Yeah, that – that can happen, I know. You just need to be confident when you go at it, remember? Make sure you aren't afraid of crashing, all that. Running helps." She coughed delicately, "Here, I'll go first." She turned toward the wall on which was mounted a metallic '9' on one side and a metallic '10' on the other.

The spirit's placid smile turned into a smirk. That had been almost too easy.

The girl suddenly stopped and looked back over at him and the spirit tried to resume the appearance of his innocent host.

"Hey, um..." She stared at the spirit for a moment, her forehead creased thought. "Well, of course everybody forgets things from time to time. Nothing to feel bad about. But... haven't you been doing this for years? I'd say you have to be in fifth year, at least."

Yami Bakura shrugged, putting on his host's most charming smile. He placed a hand behind his neck in the appearance of embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess I'm a little scatterbrained sometimes. Sorry to bother you."

"O-Oh," she said, a slight color in her face. "That's okay. Don't worry about it." She turned toward the wall and, still slightly pink, took off at a brisk pace toward the brick wall.

The next moment, she was gone. Although she'd just vanished into thin air, for some reason, it didn't feel nearly as bizarre as the spirit knew in his mind that it was. At least bizarre considering there appeared to be no Millennium Items or duel monsters involved.

Though the spirit had been told how to get on, he did not try to go through right away. Instead, he strode slowly up to the wall and pressed his hand up against it. He had felt it earlier, but this time he took in more clearly how real and solid the wall felt. Right down to the gritty texture of the bricks. Yami Bakura gave it a kick and only succeeded in giving himself a sore toe. He scowled, wondering what sort of magic would make him have to run at the wall as opposed to simply walking through it. 'Some sort of specialized illusion,' Yami Bakura thought. 'A new kind of hologram maybe.'

But this was such a curious phenomenon, he would like to find out for sure what it was about.

Yami Bakura backed up and breathed deeply. He felt no fear, but a hard frustration began to well up within him. He preferred to be the one in control, knowing all about the situation as he manipulated his blindfolded enemies into his cleverly laid traps. Being the one in the dark, unsure of the rules and consequences of his own actions was... kind of annoying.

He readied himself, as he prepared to charge the brick wall before him. A rather solid-looking brick wall.

The spirit's stomach suddenly felt heavy. His gut was telling him that there was much more behind this barrier than a simple 'hidden platform'.

_'Fate must be in the mood to play,'_ a voice in his head that was not his host's commented coolly.

_'Who cares?'_ a second voice argued savagely back. _'Let Fate do as he pleases – the end result will still be the same for me.'_

_'That is correct,'_ the spirit thought, agreeing with both of these thoughts. When dealing with such slippery concepts as 'fate' and 'destiny,' only two options existed. One could use 'fate' to fight and destroy those who opposed him. The spirit wasn't one to reject bits of good luck when they came his way. But, when fate seemed determined to work against him, he had a responsibility. He had to take control of his fate, manipulate his enemies until they fell before him once more. Yet this strange platform... this felt like a stroke of good fortune.

Feeling reckless, Yami Bakura suddenly sprinted at the wall, closing his eye as he ran, giving himself over to his instincts. This platform had more to it than just being hidden from the average mortal. Not just something more, but something that could ultimately serve him in his quest. Something that could make his power more immense than he ever could have imagined. _'Let me get through. Let me find the power to beat the Pharaoh at last...' _

He suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Slowly, he allowed his single eye to slide open. The bright light of the place almost blinded him for a moment before it began to come into focus, large blurry shapes sharpening into recognizable objects. He stood there for a moment, just staring, before a broad grin crawled its way across his face.

A shiny, old-fashioned steam engine stood on the tracks before him. Many people flooded onto it, trying to board while saying good-bye to one person or another, just as there had been at the other platforms, but these had a distinct difference. Not only were many of the people wearing various colors of robes that reminded him of the cloaks that Malik's ghouls used to wear, but some had tall pointy hats on, not unlike witches from children's fairy tales.

But even more interesting to the ancient spirit than this was the various oddities around the station that set it apart from the stations outside. Posters with moving pictures hung all over the walls and bags that floated above the ground following after their owners were only a couple of the many inexplicable things happening all around him.

The spirit leaned over one man's shoulder to get a better look at the newspaper with moving pictures the man was reading. _'Fascinating,' _the spirit thought. Pictures that could move were not of particular interest to him, but he had to admit, it seemed to be real magic. It took a moment for the spirit to bother paying attention to what the paper actually reported as the pictures provided a fairly good distraction. But once he got a good look at the what was written there, his eyes narrowed.

War – Death Eaters – He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named – the words aroused him, building up a mild curiosity until it grew into frenzied excitement. Those words were the proof he needed – if this magic could be used to terrorize, then it couldn't be all just about making pictures move and carrying luggage. Most certainly this magic was up to his standards. His eyes flickered back to the various terms and words of the newspaper. Yes... he would have this _wizard_ magic.

Yami Bakura grinned broadly, and laughed coarsely under his breath. "I'll have your head yet, Pharaoh," he said softly. "And it will start here..." He lifted his head to examine a sign above him, it's large gleaming number neat and clean. "...at platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"_**Don't you know I am the darkness?"**_

edited: Thanks, expletive deleted for pointing out that error. It wasn't an error of ffnet's (for once XD) since it was on my saved version too; I don't know what I was thinking, but it should be fixed now.

Please remember to read and review! (:

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Notes: School in England begins in the fall, school in Japan begins in the Spring, so I changed a comment from the original version of this chapter so it no longer implies/outright states Bakura's school begins in the Fall.

Jonouchi is Joey's Japanese name, and Honda is Tristan's.

I've tried my best to eliminated discrepancies and such, but if anyone notices anything, please be sure to point them out to me. (: I've only had time to read through this fic and edit one time, so there may still be errors.


	2. On the Train

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

Chapter 2: On the Train

Yami Bakura stared up at the train, a smirk plastered to his face.

_'Another magic. Another chance...'_

But he did not let his excitement cloud his judgment. He still had to proceed with caution and think things through.

Yes, it was obvious that the best way to learn this magic would be to board the train and go where these people were going. Unless they were going to another non-magical place... but why would they need a special train to go to another non-magical place when they could just use a normal train?

Deciding whether to get on the train or not wasn't the problem however; it would be actually getting on the train that he should be worrying about.

The spirit eyed those getting on the train as each presented a ticket. Sneaking on wouldn't be especially hard if it was a normal train, but what if it had a barrier like the entrance to the platform itself that require some trick to get through? Only one way to find out for certain.

Yami Bakura waited for a large group of friends to come and, as they boarded, he sneaked in among their numbers, keeping his head low. Even though his long white hair and black scarf made him stand out even in acrowd such as this, he had always had a certain talent for staying unnoticed. However, that did not stop him from being a little surprised that his entry was met with absolutely no resistance. In fact, he was a little a disappointed.

_'What sort of magic is this that they can't stop intruders from boarding their train?' _

He still continued to look around suspiciously, as though he still expected someone to come charging up to kick him off.

The spirit, who was quite on edge at this point, jerked sideways when a pale boy with bleach blond hair touched his shoulder. Yami Bakura glared at a boy, someone else who looked to be around Bakura's age.

"What?" the spirit snarled. Who dared lay his filthy mortal hands on him?

The boy grinned nastily. "Oh, nothing. Just that I happened to see that _you_ don't have a ticket."

Yami Bakura's lip curled in a sneer and he promptly started down the length of the train to find a compartment without commenting. His senses told him that this boy was merely trying to intimidate him and any other reaction would probably work against the spirit, making him appear guilty. This teen didn't have any reason to really believe that the spirit didn't belong on the train as perhaps the human would assume that he'd simply lost his ticket, so he need not be especially concerned.

However, the teen seemed furious at being ignored and set off after the spirit. He got close enough to Yami Bakura's ear to whisper coldly, "I could have you thrown off this train right now... But I won't. Hogwarts isn't going to be quite the same safe haven this year as it always has been, and I so look forward to seeing you wishing you _had_ been thrown off." And with that said, the boy turned on his heel and took off in the opposite direction.

Yami Bakura stopped abruptly and spun around, but the pale boy had already vanished among the throngs of people. Several kids gave the spirit odd looks before pushing roughly past him.

Said people might have met with a rather sticky end (or at least a wooden one) if the spirit hadn't been so distracted. His eye narrowed, feeling a certain disquiet. It wasn't _what_ the boy had said as much as the sudden wave of darkness the spirit had sensed from him. An aura of evil, and concentrated around his left arm...

Just then, another wave of people came through and shoved the spirit out of their way. Coming back to his senses, the spirit gave them a murderous look and bared his teeth. Suddenly, the people seemed only too happy to keep moving along the train and even started shoving one another in an attempt to get as far from the angry spirit as possible.

Yami Bakura sighed slightly as he headed toward an empty compartment.

He supposed it didn't really matter if this boy had a darkness about him; perhaps it would even be a common thing where they were going.

As soon as the spirit reached the vacant compartment, he closed the sliding door and took a seat next to the window.

He stared out through glass and watched as people boarded, dragging their trunks behind them and the spirit wondered again where the train would take him. It seemed like only non-adults were getting on, so maybe this was some sort of summer camp except that it was in autumn?

Just then, the spirit's thoughts were interrupted as a group of four boys poked their heads into the room.

"Sorry, but can we sit here? Everywhere else is all full..."

Feeling distinctly annoyed, the spirit was about to tell them to find someplace else (he had a few suggestions himself), but then he realized that, with these people here, he might get a few answers to his questions.

"Of course," he said innocently.

The boys looked a bit disgruntled at the spirit's almost leering smile, but as they really did have nowhere else to go, they came into the compartment and sat down.

At first, Yami Bakura tried reading their thoughts with his Millennium Eye, but none were thinking anything that was of value to the spirit and even if it was, the thoughts were too hard for the spirit to interpret, being part of a chain of thoughts that require knowledge of other matters to understand. Eventually he gave this up and turned the entirety of his attention to listen to the boys' conversation instead, keeping his real eye fixed determinedly on the window.

After the train started to move a few minutes later, the teens seemed to get over their discomfort of Yami Bakura and they started to talk about various things, the subject of a war that was going on coming up more than anything else. Names that meant nothing to the spirit like 'Dumbledore' and 'Harry Potter' were thrown around several times. The boys seemed to grow rather gloomy during this conversation and, until a woman with an assortment of bizarre candies showed up, they had gone to predicting premature deaths of various people that were apparently involved in the 'Ministry'.

As much as premature deaths fascinated the spirit, he still couldn't make sense of half of what they were saying even with his Millennium Eye and was eager to turn his attention to the candy cart. Some of the things were so strange that he was tempted to buy some of it just to see if it tasted different than normal candy. At least, he was until he saw the boys paying for what they wanted with foreign coins. Their coins were much different from the money Yami Bakura had stolen earlier at the ordinary station in a desperate attempt to keep himself entertained and the spirit highly doubted that this woman would take his money. Worse yet, she might be tipped off to the fact that he was a stowaway; better to keep a low profile for now. So when the woman turned to him and asked him if he wanted anything, he declined.

The boys seemed to be in a much better mood as they ate from the candy they'd purchased and began talking about things that were of much more interest to the spirit, for they seemed to be talking about what would await them at their destination.

"Bet McGonagall'll pour a bunch of homework on us now that our O.W.L.'s are coming up," one said, as he unwrapped what looked like a chocolate frog.

"McGonagall? I'm more worried about Snape!" said another boy as he leaned over the first boy's shoulder. "Which one did you get?" he added, trying to see the chocolate frog's cardboard wrapper in the first boy's hand.

"Dumbledore again," the boy replied. Then, in reference to what boy number two had said earlier, "I know. Snape always favors the Slytherins. Speaking of Snape, who do you think will be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year?"

But by this time, Yami Bakura had ceased listening, while continuing to stare determinedly out the window as they passed some cows grazing in an open field. The wheels in his head were turning, adding up the information he'd gathered. Homework? Then they were likely going to some kind of boarding school. It was indeed the beginning of September, and if the information in his host's mind was right, western schools began in the fall. Could this be a school to learn this foreign magic, or was it simply a school to learn ordinary things but meant to keep those with strange gifts separated from ordinary children? After all, surely they wouldn't have homework if they were only learning how to use magic.

The spirit shifted in his seat, growling slightly under his breath. If this turned out to be a waste of his time, he'd show these wizards his own kind of magic...

Several more hours passed with the spirit continuing to stare out the window, listening vaguely to the boy's stories of their idle lives and worries. They talked off and on about something called 'Kwi-dich' which was apparently a sport played on broomsticks. At some point during when the boy was describing how great a 'Firebolt' was, Yami Bakura dozed off, resting Ryou's frail body and his own restless mind.

When the spirit finally came to he found one of the boys gently shaking him. The spirit turned to glower at him. "What is it?"

The spirit was a little pleased when the boy jumped backward, looking a little shaken himself.

"Sorry, but we're almost there and you need to change – " he started to answer.

"Where?" Yami Bakura interjected.

"Hogwarts," the boy answered, sounding a little exasperated. "Hey..." he frowned and he seemed to be focusing on a place directly above the spirit. So were the other boys. "Where's your stuff?" he asked.

Yami Bakura's single eye narrowed slightly. "I was just wondering the same thing about your sense of minding your own business," he countered nastily.

"SOR-ry," the boy muttered, sounding affronted as he turned away and pulled his own trunk off the rack above him. "Just wondering how you'd change into your robes without a trunk."

Yami Bakura raised his eyebrows. Robes?

But as the boy pulled out what looked like a long, black cloak, Yami Bakura realized that this must be the school's uniform. Yami Bakura would have to get one if he was to enter the school as one of its students.

He frowned slightly as he turned back to the window and he saw that it was dark outside. It was obvious he had to steal the robes from one of the boys, but how to go about it... Obvious he would need a distraction to go unnoticed when he was in this confined of a space.

He suddenly smirked slightly to himself. _'Sorry _my friends_, but I don't think you'll really miss just one uniform.'_

Suddenly, the spirit leaped to his feet, glaring at the boys. "What is it you are saying under your breath that you are afraid to say to me?" he asked coldly, feigning anger.

"Nothing!" the boy said defensively, looking confused.

"Oh, yes, I'm _sure_," the spirit sneered.

"Hey," the boy said, clearing his throat. "I'm not looking for trouble, so – "

"No?" Yami Bakura said coolly, in a clear tone of disbelief.

The other three boys, who had previously been pulling their robes on over their clothes, circled around Bakura.

"There are four of _us_ and only one of _you_, so just back off!" pointed out one, who happened to be at least an inch taller than anyone else in the compartment, sounding angry.

The spirit resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Mortals loved stating the obvious. Instead, like lightening and without the slightest warning, the spirit let his face contort with anger and he lunged, planting his fist into the largest boy's stomach. The teen gasped in pain and shock but he recovered quickly and tried to hit the spirit back. The spirit ducked out of the way just in time, managing also to 'accidentally' knock over one of the open trunks and send its contents everywhere.

Another one of the boys swung at the spirit, this time hitting the mark.

Yami Bakura doubled over in pain before falling to the ground with a grunt of pain, happening to fall across the robes that had fallen out of the over-turned suitcase.

When the spirit leaped to his feet once more the robes were mysteriously gone, but none of the boys seemed to notice. They were all staring angrily at the spirit.

"Get out," one said. They were all pointing harmless-looking wooden sticks at him, but the Millennium Eye was telling the spirit that there was nothing 'harmless' about them.

"Fine," the spirit said, trying his best to sound resentful and sulky rather than gleeful and condescending.

The spirit stepped out into the hallway, only then allowing himself a slight smirk. Certainly it had been a bit crude, but it had worked well enough. It would be some time before they noticed, probably not until long after they had reached and settled in at their destination, if they were as careless as most mortals tended to be.

The spirit made his way down the corridor, waiting until he was some ways away from the compartment that had been originally his before revealing the long, black robes hidden in his trench coat. Without hesitation he pulled the robes over his head. They were by far, too large and baggy for him, but they'd have to do.

Just as the spirit was wondering if he ought to find another compartment an announcer's voice echoed throughout the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

That confirmed that it was indeed a school then, the spirit thought. It was called 'Hogwarts' if he'd had heard correctly. Yes... that was what that boy had said.

The spirit had to shift his position as people began coming out of their compartments, evidently eager to get off the train.

"He hasn't come back, Hermione," a round-faced boy said nervously. "Should we just go or what?"

"Just give him a minute, maybe something held him up," a girl with bushy, brown hair answered, but she didn't look very hopeful either.

It was about that time that the train came to to a gradual stop and the children began filing out.

Yami Bakura's eye flitted back to the round-faced boy and the girl with bushy brown hair with a little interest. He'd decided to wait for the throngs of people to move past him before he got off, not having any great liking of being pushed along by a crowd, so maybe he'd find out who they were waiting for.

"I'm sure he'll be all right," a girl with long, dirty blond hair and misty eyes that were rather hard to see behind a round pair of brightly colored glasses said dreamily. She had a stick behind her ear that looked suspiciously like the ones that the boys in Yami Bakura's compartment had been pointing at him.

"Yeah, Harry'll be okay. He's just probably got off already." said a boy with bright red hair.

Even with this said, the four waited for a while before finally moving with the masses toward the exit.

Nobody ever did return even though Yami Bakura waited until almost all the crowd was gone.

It didn't much matter to the spirit however and by this time, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He'd managed to both sneak onto the train and steal the robes he was wearing and no one was any the wiser. Well, nobody that mattered anyway. He wasn't really afraid of getting caught in any case. His Millennium Ring always ensured he got what he wanted and he could play a shadow game with anyone who tried to make him do anything he didn't want to do.

The spirit suddenly caught sight of the pale-faced boy he'd seen earlier, coming out of a compartment and looking extremely smug. The spirit narrowed his eye slightly, as he sensed the darkness around the boy's left arm once again. It was not as defined as it had been when the boy was whispering in his ear, but it was still unmistakable.

The spirit had just started to tap into the powers of his Eye when someone in a particular hurry, one of the last passengers left on the train shoved past the spirit and the spirit, struggling to maintain his balance, lost sight of the pale boy when he went through the exit.

The spirit cursed under his breath and set off toward the exit door closest to him. His annoyance however was once again ebbed away by the prospect of learning a new powerful type of magic. New magic... and Yami Bakura could almost taste it.

"_**Present day humans are so fun to terrorize, don't you think?"**_

Please read and review!


	3. The Great Hall

Lol, I have to admit the lax security in this fanfiction makes me kind of laugh now. XD But I think if I had tried to hard to make it better back then I never would have even gotten past the first few chapters of this fanfic. Writing breaking into/out of secure facilities is always hard, but I think I especially have a hard time with it. ...Which is kind of sad for me, since one of the main fanfictions I'm working on now is in the science fiction/fantasy genre and is going to require at least four of these from what I can tell. xD (dangit!)

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Thanks expletive deleted for pointing out that error; dunno what I was thinking, but it should be fixed now. Thanks for reviewing, and I'll try really hard not to disappoint!

**-3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 -3 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

Chapter 3: The Great Hall

Yami Bakura stepped lightly off the train, casually walking in the same general direction as the crowds, trying not to appear more conspicuous than necessary in case they realized that he wasn't a guest.

His single eye swept the dark station, looking for any more signs of magic. There did not appear to be any, but the spirit had no time to be disappointed by this as he caught sight of a huge black figure moving quickly toward the crowds. A giant, it looked like, at least nine feet tall.

The spirit's lip curled slightly as he continued walking with the crowd, not taking his eyes off the figure. Was he some sort of guard? Would the giant try to stop him from entering? Perhaps the pale boy had decided to report him after all.

The spirit picked up his pace a little bit. He was not afraid, but he knew that any sort of confrontation with a guard would pretty much ruin or at least severely limit his chances of learning their magic – at least in a way that would be the most convenient.

The man was getting closer, and closer, and then –

"Firs' years! Firs' years, this way!"

The spirit was so startled by the giant man's astonishingly friendly tone, that he stopped dead and blinked.

"Firs' years, over here! Firs' years – "

Children that had to be at least five or six years younger than Bakura had begun to assemble around the giant. They were shivering slightly, glancing around and looking decidedly nervous, especially compared to the other people heading in another direction, walking leisurely with hardly any signs of anxiousness as if they'd already done this many times before.

Although the spirit was tempted to go with what he guessed to be the first timers, he decided to continue with those who looked to be around Bakura's age.

It wasn't terribly long before he caught sight of where the students were going. Hundreds of carriages were lined up on a dirt lane and students were piling into them by the handful. But to Yami Bakura, the carriages weren't half so interesting as the 'horses' pulling them.

The spirit walked up to one of these creatures to get a better look. They reminded him strongly of the types of cards he kept in his deck with their leathery bat-like wings, black skeletal bodies, and empty white eyes. Absentmindedly, he reached up to stroke it's dragon-like head, almost as if it _was_ one of his ghouls, but before he made contact he heard a voice speak up from behind him.

"Oh, so you can see them?"

The spirit lowered his hand slowly, and turned his head to glare at the speaker over his shoulder. His expression betrayed the slightest hint of surprise as he recognized the bushy-haired girl from the train. "You mean these divine, horse-like beasts?" the spirit asked, a bit sadistically since he knew that these creatures would probably appear frightening to most. "Of course I can see them. Who can not?"

"Well, um..." The girl hesitated for a moment, looking a bit unnerved by his declaration of how 'divine' the creatures were.

"Hurry up, Hermione!" The red-haired boy from the train stuck his head out the doorway of a carriage nearby. "Get in! We don't have all day, you know."

"I'm coming, Ron!" the girl called back, before turning back to the spirit. "You can only see thestrals if you've seen somebody die," she said, looking awkward. With that, the girl turned around and headed toward the carriage with the redhead.

The spirit glanced back at the creature, liking them even more, before taking off after the girl with a slightly wistful sigh. What he'd give to have something like one of those 'thestrals' in his deck. And only those who have witnessed death could see them, how intriguing.

When the girl reached the carriage and she pulled herself up and inside, the spirit got right behind her and, before the carriage could take off, leaped up after the girl and slid himself inside before any objections could be raised.

The carriage started to move and they were off.

As the spirit had suspected, the carriage was filled with the people he'd seen waiting for their friend on the train, all of which were staring at him with varying reactions. The redhead was outright glaring at him, evidently feeling intruded upon, the round-faced boy kept shooting nervous glances at him, trying to pretend he was unperturbed, while the girl with the stick behind her ear was giving him a rather mild look, as though he was not especially interesting, but she had nothing else to do.

The redhead looked on the verge of telling the spirit off for just jumping into their carriage uninvited, but the brown, bushy haired girl spoke up first, getting over her surprise more quickly than the rest.

"Oh, hello again," she said. "I don't believe we've introduced ourselves yet. I'm Hermione, and this is Ron – " she gestured toward the redhead – "Neville – " the round-faced boy gave a little wave and mumbled his greetings – "and Luna," she finished.

"Hello," the girl with the stick behind her ear said dreamily.

The spirit surveyed them through his single eye for a moment before turning his attention to the other side of the dark windows to watch the strange, fiendish horses pulling the carriages. "Huh," he said indifferently.

The bushy haired girl named Hermione looked a little reproachful.

"A Slytherin if I ever saw one," the redhead muttered with a don't-even-bother-with-him sort of tone in his voice.

"What year are you in?" asked the girl. "I don't remember ever having seen you before..."

When the spirit continued to ignore her, she shrugged, frowning, and turned away.

The spirit watched the scenery passing by the carriage absently, not really paying much attention to the other four inhabitants of the carriage as they all talked worriedly about their friend 'Harry,' hoping he'd gotten off the train all right.

Among the many swirling shadows rushing past the carriage, the spirit caught sight of a giant, elaborately designed iron gate. As the carriages passed through it, the spirit thought he saw winged boars mounted on pillars.

As the ever sloping drive continued, the spirit shifted his position so he was closer to the window and twisted his neck, hoping to get a glimpse of their destination. Just as he'd started to settle back into his seat again, he did a double-take and struggled back up to get a better look.

An enormous black castle towered over the landscape from its lofty position on the edge of the mountain, its many turrets and towers nearly blocking out the moon. The spirit tried to suppress it, but could not help but utter the faintest breath of awe as he gazed upon the giant stone fortress.

As they drew closer, the spirit's anticipation began to build itself anew. What would he learn of this new magic? How much power would he gain? Yami Bakura, who optimistically couldn't see there being a limit to either of those things, was in good spirits now. It was just a matter of getting there now.

As soon as the carriage came to a halt, the spirit was the first one out. He stole one last glance at the thestrals before following the movements of the crowd up the steps, two at a time.

He wasted no time in weaving his way through to get ahead of those who were deliberately walking too slow, talking to their friends. As he stepped inside the fortress, however, he stopped so quickly that the people right behind him nearly knocked him over. He'd thought that he'd never seen anything so impressive when he'd surveyed the castle from the outside a few minutes ago, but the inside was definitely an image to be reckoned with.

Blazing torches lined the hallway, whose powerful fires cast light on everything, save the ceiling which was simply too far above their heads to be seen properly no matter how bright the fires. But, even with the great size of the hallway, which could have easily fit little Yugi's entire game shop in it, the crowd seemed to be stopped up in front for some reason.

"Get in line, all of you! Security's tight now, so don't go thinking you'll be able to get past with anything that's against the rules. Heh, depending on the magnitude of what you're caught concealing, expulsion might be the best you can hope for..."

The spirit stood up a little straighter, in an attempt to see over the heads of the other people as he tried to pinpoint where exactly the wheezy, excited voice was coming from. It didn't take long for him to spot the source standing in the front of the crowd poking squiggly, golden sticks at the students, only allowing them to pass once he was satisfied that they weren't concealing anything.

Yami Bakura hesitated in apprehension, feeling unsure of himself. If this man was searching for things that were concealed, then he would surely discover his two Millennium Items – the one under his scarf and the one under his robes. Yami Bakura grimaced. So they had some security after all. After his success with the train, he should have realized he wouldn't get lucky twice.

The spirit raised himself a bit higher, trying to detect any possible means of sneaking past. It looked like he could just sort of mingle with the crowd and slide past once again, but he'd have to be careful.

He quickly moved closer, only slowing down once he got fairly close to the security checking point. He was busy waiting for the right opportunity to sneak past when he suddenly caught sight of a mangy, gray cat streaking through the crowd. Although she was merely an animal to the spirit, there was something almost un-cat like about her.

On impulse, the spirit tapped into his Eye's power to read her mind. He was a little unnerved when he withdrew, for she may have not been human, but it told him enough to know that she was standing guard there, making sure none of the students tried to sneak past. The spirit scowled in frustration.

But he was not given time to consider since the spirit was quite suddenly dragged roughly forward.

"What are you just standing there gawking for? Keep the line moving!" barked the man and he promptly began to point a sort of squiggly, gold stick right at his heart.

He almost panicked at being so startled and, instinct taking over, the spirit quickly tapped into the power of his Millennium Ring – the power to manipulate souls. He sealed a piece of his own soul into the squiggly stick; now he could take control it and stop it from reacting. At least, that would be the result if it was a normal object. No telling if a foreign magical item would work the same way.

The spirit waited, his whole body tense as the man jabbed at him with the stick. It must have worked, it had to have worked.

And indeed, the sensor did not react. The man jabbed at every area he could reach and even pointed the sensors directly at his black scarf which hid his Millennium Eye, but still nothing happened. The man looked thoroughly disappointed at this.

The man gestured him onward with a slight grunt and the spirit went forward down the giant hall. After he had put a considerable distance between himself and the man, he let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He was a bit relieved to have gotten past that hurdle. After all, it wouldn't have worked to his advantage to have had to cause some kind of incident if he was interested in learning more about this magic. He smirked slightly. Certainly he was smarter and more powerful than a hundred of them put together, but no need to reveal that unless it was absolutely necessary.

Still smirking, he followed the crowd into a large door on the right. As he stepped into the room, he felt himself grudgingly impressed once again. Compared to this place, the entrance hall looked like a one-room apartment. Forget the Game Shop, this place could fit the whole Kaiba Corporation in it. ...Well, maybe it wasn't quite_ that_ big, but it had to come close.

The spirit gazed intently at the hundreds of floating candles lighting the room and the four long tables running parallel to one another. Once he'd grown tired of these, he craned his neck upward to peer up at the ceiling, which apparently didn't exist. The room simply opened up into the night sky. In fact, the spirit could see millions of tiny white stars up there.

The spirit quickly scanned the room, seeing the students in their long, black robes looking just like the ones he'd stolen earlier and on their heads were what looked suspiciously like witchs' hats like the ones he'd seen at the station.

A slight crease appeared in his forehead. Perhaps the seats were assigned, in which case it would be more difficult to find a place where he could use the large numbers as an excuse for not being recognized by anyone. But even as he wondered this, he could see the students wandering in and over to the various tables and sitting with the same people they'd been talking to. The spirit figured that if they were simply sitting with their friends, that likely meant open seating. In any case, it would be more conspicuous for him to continue standing here than to sit down.

His eye swept the room again and he happened to catch sight of the dreamy, dirty blond girl from the carriage. She was just about to sit down.

The spirit shrugged slightly to himself and began to head over in her direction. To the spirit's surprise, the girl was sitting by herself. Instinctively, the spirit's eye roved the room for the girl's friends, and, sure enough, he saw them sitting pretty far down the row at another table. Perhaps there was some limitation on the seating after all then. He found a place several seats away from the girl and sat down before taking a rather greedy notice of the empty golden plates and goblets sitting in front of everyone.

The spirit glanced over at the girl again as she pulled out a magazine and promptly began to read it. The spirit could see the picture on the front moving.

As he bored of the life-like images, he went to scanning the room once again. He noticed a fifth, smaller table at the front of the room, which was perpendicular to the main four tables. This table had adults rather than children, so the spirit assumed that this table must be for the teachers and staff. His eyes went over each and every one of them, but his eye kept straying back to one of them in particular.

The man sitting in the center in a large, throne-like chair and looked just like the typical old, wise wizard present in numerous fairy tales with his long, white hair and beard and his half-moon spectacles. The spirit couldn't pinpoint for sure why, but this man seemed to exude an air of power. Although the spirit couldn't really say that he felt intimidated, he couldn't help but feel a sort of respect for him. His eye narrowed slightly in thought. He would probably have to watch out for this man.

His train of thought was suddenly broken by a feeling of being drenched in ice-cold water, seeming to come out of nowhere as thought the space above him had simply opened up and the liquid had been poured out of another dimension. He stood up in fury, trying desperately to brush himself off, but also wondering if he had been found out after all. But even as he did this, the feeling passed and he found himself completely dry. He glared down at his clothes, wondering what had happened. He raised his gaze and came face-to-face with a white, translucent woman standing _in_ the table.

"Hello, Dear," she said. "I'm sorry if I startled you, I just wanted to introduce myself. You see, I usually remember all those in our house, but I didn't recognize you..." she trailed off, apparently lost in thought. The spirit took this time to study her a bit more closely to make sure he really _was _seeing through her and,sure enough, he could just make out his plate and the people who'd sat across from him through her form.

_'Hmm... This is a rather bizarre phenomenon,'_ the spirit thought. Perhaps a hologram. The way she was completely colorless, a combination of white and gray was rather ethereal; she simultaneously solid as though she was a real person, but also dull, insubstantial, as though she was made out of nothing more than an image made of mist or a powder. Even her metal tiara looked as though it could blow away at any moment.

The spirit scowled at the woman, hoping she'd leave him alone. Her decision to find out who he was was not only annoying, but it was attracting the even more annoying interested stares from those sitting nearby.

"So what did you say your name was?" she asked, apparently not getting the message.

"I've... changed my appearance somewhat since the last time I was... ah... here," the spirit said evasively looking everywhere but at the woman, noticing for the first time that she wasn't the only translucent form in the room.

The hologram lady seemed to be about to press the matter, but she was suddenly distracted by a long line of children filing into the room, led by a rather stern-looking woman with her hair in a tight bun, carrying a stool and an ancient-looking hat, not unlike the ones most of the people there were wearing. Many of the children appeared nervous, a few strode arrogantly, and some simply glanced about them in curiosity. They continued on, finally stopping just short of the teachers' table and setting the stool on the floor. The room went strangely quiet, everyone's attention suddenly riveted to the front of the room.

The stern teacher set the dirty, old hat on the stool and for a moment nothing happened. Then, to the spirit's shock, a rip appeared in the hat and it began to sing.

"_**I see my cards are already showing you no mercy."**_

End of chapter 3. Please read and review!


	4. The Sorting Hat's Song

Sazume: lol, and even Professor Binns would notice him because Yami Bakura probably would feel the need to draw attention to himself in class. "You call this HISTORY? Where am I? You know, the SUPREME EVIL that was trying to take over the world 3000 years ago? The King of Thieves ring any bells? It's called COVERING the major events, Buddy!" (...Please forgive Axxonu for right now; she's hyped up on left-over Halloween candy ) So yeah, thanks for reviewing(and pointing that out about the teachers). Hopefully your question will be answered in this chapter.

**-4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 -4 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

nani ka: Japanese for 'what?'

Again, I'm using the Japanese names for the characters so Joey is Jonouchi, Téa is Anzu, and Tristan is Honda.

Chapter 4: The Sorting Hat's Song

The spirit was sitting in the gigantic room, waiting in silence with the others sitting around him, and staring intently at the old hat sitting on the stool. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't the thing that wound up happening. Without warning, the seam along the brim of the hat simply opened up and it began to sing:

_So long ago that no one knew  
__What real knowledge could provide,  
__There lived four daring sorcerers  
__Who sought to change the tide.  
__At the time, these friends all were  
__Brought together by their dream  
__To make the greatest magic school  
__This world had ever seen._

_But once they'd started Hogwarts School  
__An argument soon arose,  
__Which students should they let inside  
__And whose entries to oppose.  
__Said Gryffindor, "We only want  
__The noble and the brave,"  
__Said Hufflepuff, "I hope it is  
__The loyal ones we save."  
__Said Ravenclaw, "Surely only  
__The smart will pass the test,"  
__Said Slytherin, "The cunning ones  
__Will always be the best."_

_So at last, the four decided  
__That it might be most prudent  
__To sort them among four houses  
__Determined by the student  
__So Griffindor was set to teach  
__The ones with courageous hearts,  
__While Ravenclaw took only those  
__Who had an excess of smarts.  
__Slytherin refused anyone  
__Without purity and aim,  
__Hufflepuff took the unbiased  
__And treated them all the same._

_After this, there was little strife  
__Bringing many quiet years  
__Until the houses fought again  
__Bringing naught but pain and tears.  
__And to this day, the houses still  
__Aren't united as before.  
__But I still dream and hope and pray  
__We won't crumble at our core._

_If our school is to continue,  
__If Hogwarts is still to stand,  
__We must know to pull together  
__Or else prove we're built on sand.  
__So I hereby beg you now  
__To build friendships strong and true  
__Before the darkness sets in,  
__And while we're still able to.  
__But now I must separate you  
__So I'll show you where you go  
__But still, do not be divided,  
__Only outside is our foe_.

The hat fell silent, appearing lifeless once more and the whole room burst into applause.

The spirit's forehead creased in concentration as he struggled to retain everything he'd heard. Granted, he'd felt a little insulted by the notion of a singing hat to begin with, but he'd quickly become raptly interested after he'd started to listen to what it was saying. All that about the strife and argument between the 'Houses'... However, the spirit found the part about 'the darkness setting in' a little unsettling. After all, it could mean they already knew about him.

The stern-looking woman turned from watching the hat to face the children. "When I call your name, come up and place the hat on your head and sit on this stool. Then proceed to the table of the house into which you are sorted."

The children glanced at one another, some looking excited while others looked apprehensive.

"Abrash, Derald," the woman called.

A small boy with light, brown hair stumbled up to the stool and sat down, looking terrified. He stared at the old hat for a moment before lowering it tentatively onto his head until it sunk so low that the boy's eyes were hidden from sight.

Nothing happened for a moment, then the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

One of the tables erupted into frenzied cheers and applause as the boy, red in the face, went to the table and sat down.

"Astrava, Enoch."

A black-haired boy then approached the stool. Unlike the first boy, he walked with a slight strut in his step, glaring at the other first years, so they'd get out of his way. Before he'd had time to put the hat on completely, it screamed "SLYTHERIN!" and the boy swaggered off to the cheering table which happened to be one of the ones right next to the one the spirit was sitting at.

By this time, the spirit was starting to understand what was happening. The hat was deciding where the students went based on their personalities. He himself would probably have to be 'sorted' as well if he was to learn at this school. Now, which house would the hat place him in, he wondered.

"Falken, Raeona," the woman called and a girl with long, black hair and a thoroughly annoyed expression walked up.

Surely he would not be put in the 'loyal' house, but he probably wouldn't be put in the one that wanted 'purity' either. The spirit acknowledged that he was anything but pure. The courageous house didn't seem his type either, he always associated 'courage' with stupidity. Like the time his host had almost sacrificed his soul to thwart the spirit in his shadow game against the pharaoh. Most likely he'd be put in the fourth House, although the spirit couldn't quite remember the dominant traits for that one.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The spirit was startled from his thoughts as the table he was at exploded into applause as the dark haired girl slouched over to their table, looking irritated as ever.

The spirit decided not to worry about it for the moment and instead turned his full attention back to the children being sorted.

"Gouttsoul, Vincent."

"SLYTHERIN!"

After this one, the spirit happened to see the giant from the platform come in. He was apparently trying to be inconspicuous as he approached the staff table, but he was so large he was all that successful.

The spirit raised his eyebrows slightly before turning his attention back to the sorting.

Next were Landvatter, Karyn who was put in Gryffindor, Nanagra, Alan who was put in Ravenclaw, and Olseth, Armando who was also put in Slytherin.

The spirit's eye wandered unwillingly back up to the staff table and he looked at the long-bearded man with the half-moon spectacles again. He would be the one the spirit would have to convince to let him learn here. But how hard to convince would this man prove? Perhaps he would be the understanding type who tried to give everyone a chance as his kindly appearance suggested, but the spirit knew better than anyone how deceiving looks could be.

"Sparr, Mercedes."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Spight, Myron."

"SLYTHERIN!"

The spirit frowned slightly, eying the slowly shortening line of first years. The whole sorting process had been rather interesting at the start, but now the spirit was eager to see the end of it and find out what happened next. So the spirit was not the least bit sorry when the final person (Yonetanji, Sally, who was placed into Hufflepuff) was sorted and the stern woman took the hat and the stool away.

Then, without warning, the entire room went deathly silent. It took a moment of glancing about the room before the spirit realized that everyone's attention was directed toward the staff table. He turned his head and saw that the old man with the half-moon spectacles had stood up. The spirit was mildly impressed. He'd never seen any teacher command such respect from students.

"I welcome you all to another fresh year at Hogwarts," he said in a good-natured tone. "Naturally, I have a great deal to say, but now it isn't the time to say it. Tuck in!"

The spirit watched the tall, thin man for a moment with raised eyebrows. _'More energetic than that Jonouchi,' _the spirit thought. No... perhaps 'energetic' was not the right word.

But before he could really think on this much longer, he was distracted when he turned back to the gold plates and goblets in front of him, which, to his astonishment, had miraculously filled with food and drink. _'How did they manage that?'_ he wondered, glancing about to see if he could spot where the feast had come from. But all he saw was the other people around him already piling food onto their plates, not looking the least bit taken aback.

The spirit scowled and leaned forward to get a closer look at the foreign food. He sniffed it suspiciously and, after a rather unnecessarily thorough inspection, deemed that the probability of its being poisoned relatively small. Even though he'd decided it was safe, he still ate sparingly, only taking meager portions from one or two plates, rather than take advantage of the veritable gourmet dishes.

Having finished what he'd taken already, he was eying a third dish of rare meat when the door to the room opened again. The spirit glanced over his shoulder with curiosity as a teen with what looked like dried blood on his face marched into the room. As he got closer, the spirit caught sight of a strange zig-zagging scar on the boy's forehead, partially obscured by his black, unkempt hair. The spirit soon saw that he wasn't the only one staring; some people were even going so far as to stand up and move toward the teen – whether to greet him or interrogate him, the spirit didn't know, but the boy walked so quickly, all the while looking seriously ticked off about something, that nobody managed to catch him. When he finally came to a stop, he sat down at one of the tables right next to the one the spirit was at. As the spirit watched, he suddenly realized that the boy was sitting with the people that Yami Bakura immediately recognized as Ron and Hermione from the carriage.

As the girl Hermione began to clean off the blood on the boy's face with a stick not unlike the ones he'd seen before, he turned his attention back to the entrance in time to see a sallow-faced man with shoulder-length, greasy black hair heading toward the teachers' table, his long black robes billowing out behind him.

Yami Bakura frowned slightly in thought. He'd just suddenly gotten this feeling in the pit of his stomach about this man. There was something both odd and familiar about him that the spirit couldn't quite put his finger on.

The spirit turned back to the food only to find that it had been replaced with as much a variety of deserts as there had been food. As he took a rather generous amount of pudding after having worked up an appetite, he finally started listening to what the people around him were saying.

"Did you see him? _The_ Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, I did! But how do you think he got that blood on his face?"

"No idea, but knowing him, it was probably something heroic, you know? By the way, I kinda knew all last year that he'd be right about You-Know-Who..."

The spirit glanced back over at the boy with the scar questioningly. _The_ Harry Potter? What was so special about him? The spirit silently made a note to find out once he'd settled into this place – and yes, he _would_ settle in, invited or otherwise.

After the spirit had finished his pudding along with a few of other choice deserts, he sat in silence, gazing around the room, his eyes continually wandering back to the teacher's table where the man with half-moon spectacles was sitting on his throne-like chair.

Although the spirit knew he ought to be wary of this man as he likely possessed great, unseen powers, the spirit could not bring himself to worry too much on the matter. Instead he chose to focus more on the teacher sitting just to the old man's right, the man that had arrived just a few minutes before. For some reason the spirit could not quite understand, this enigmatic man made him feel apprehensive, even more so than the old man that was exuding such an air of power. And the spirit couldn't quite shake that feeling of déja vu that he'd gotten when the man had first entered.

However, his thoughts on this were once again interrupted as the old man with half-moon spectacles rose to his feet. As before, the many conversations ended almost immediately.

"The very best evening to you," the man greeted, his sleeves falling back as he spread his arms wide.

His interest piqued, the spirit sat up a little straighter in an attempt to get a better look at the man's blackened, grotesque hand which had apparently been concealed under the long sleeves of his robes until now.

The hall broke into a sea of whispers and it became obvious to the spirit that they had not known of the condition of the man's hand either until that moment.

Smiling, the man let his sleeve fall back over his hand and he said breezily, "Nothing to worry about."

No one was satisfied with this answer, but as there really wasn't anything they could do about it had no choice but to grudgingly decide to let it go, although the spirit added mentally, _'At least for now.'_

"Now... to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. Now, I would like the first years to note that the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all students. I also remind you that no magic is to be used in the hallways between classes, and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn – " As he said this a fat, bald man with a rather pleased expression on his face stood up. " – is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

The peace was once again disturbed as this news seemed to come as a bit of a shock.

"Potions?"

"_Potions?_"

People kept glancing at each other in shock as if trying to confirm that they had indeed heard correctly.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," the man continued, raising his voice so as to be heard over the frantic whispers, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" somebody cried, as if they could not possibly imagine anything worse than this as the table the spirit had gathered from the sorting belonged to the Slytherin house was the only one that really applauded.

The spirit gazed up at the staff table in interest. Had that man just said there would be a Dark Arts class? Well, he'd really said _Defense Against_ the Dark Arts, but in the spirit's mind, there really wasn't much of a difference between the two. After all, learning how to defend oneself from the Dark Arts would likely be all about learning about what they were and how they worked.

The spirit's eye swept the table, trying to locate this "Professor Snape." He froze as his gaze fell on the greasy-haired, sallow-skinned man whose facial expression held a hint of triumph as he raised a hand in acknowledgment of the cheers.

It couldn't be him, thought the spirit. The man that would be teaching the Dark Arts was the very man that the spirit had taken such great notice of. Perhaps he really was dangerous after all. The spirit would have to keep an eye on that one, find out a little more about him.

After waiting a few seconds for the buzz of excited conversation that this information had caused to die down, the man with half-moon spectacles continued on as he put on a serious expression.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining strength."

The spirit kept his eye riveted to the speaker as the man had, once again, managed to pique the spirit's interest. _'Lord Voldemort?'_

"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them – in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."

The man smiled once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

The room instantly filled with the scraping noise of benches being scooted back and the excited buzz of conversation.

The spirit stood up, but instead of following the crowd, he began to weave his way against it in the direction of the staff table. If he was planning to convince the man to let him learn here, then now would be the best time to do it.

As he was carefully moving in and around the students he thought he heard the voice of the dreamy girl with the stick behind her ear whose name escaped him at the moment saying, "Did you know your going the wrong way?" but he ignored her along with the slightly annoyed glares he was getting from the others. He had only one concern in mind at the moment.

When he finally reached the empty floor beyond the crowds, he breathed deeply, glad to be out. He stood up a little straighter and continued on with a bit more dignity than he'd had skirting about trying to avoid having a collision with the students. He made sure not to take his eye off the man with the half-moon spectacles, in case the man decided to leave.

The spirit was feeling optimistic; certainly he'd have to do a pretty good acting job to make them believe he was just some innocent boy wanting to learn, but he had to act like Bakura all the time as it was, so he was already a master at that anyway. But even if he couldn't convince them, he would be able to get information out of them anyway with his Millennium Eye, or even if he had to play a shadow game with the man. This was all a win-win situation.

"I assume you understood the Headmaster when he said that all students are to go directly to their dormitories."

So startled was he by the cold, sarcastic voice right next to him that he froze, then turned stiffly to face the speaker. The spirit's eye narrowed slightly as he took in the thin, dark form of the recently appointed Hogwarts Dark Arts teacher.

The spirit did not flinch, but he felt a powerful stirring emotion in the pit of his stomach. It was not fear exactly, but he could sense that this man was a threat. _'A threat that will have to be eliminated,'_ the spirit thought, his jaw clenched tightly.

The two eyed one another, each wearing their own calculating expressions. After a moment, the spirit came back to his senses and he replaced his malevolent appearance with what he hoped was a benign, Ryou-esque face, also hoping that the few seconds that his guard had been down would not complicate things in the future too much.

"I... I need to speak with..." the spirit made a vague gesture in the direction of the staff table as he realized he wasn't quite sure how to refer to this man.

The man's lips curled into a sneer. "Well, I'm afraid that the Headmaster, whether you know it or not, might have more important things to do than have conferences with students at present, so, unfortunately, it will probably have to be postponed."

"It's urgent. It cannot wait," the spirit replied injecting a note of desperation in his voice, like a scared student, though he was not discouraged in the least.

The teacher surveyed him through curtains of his greasy black hair, looking a little annoyed. "Well, in that case, I think ten points ought to be taken from..." he stopped for a moment, his expression calculating again. "Which House are you in?" he asked suddenly, looking suspicious.

"I'm not in any House, Sir," the spirit said quickly, adding the 'sir' on at the last minute in an attempt to sound more respectful and add to the impression of intimidated student. "That's the reason why I – "

"Such insolence," the man interrupted, and for the first time, the spirit started to get irritated. This man wasn't just trying to keep him following the rules, but intentionally trying to give him a hard time.

"Perhaps a detention will change your mind – " the teacher started to say in a silky voice, but was cut off.

"May I ask what's going on here, Professor Snape?" said a cheerful voice from right beside them.

The teacher stopped in mid-sentence and stood up a little straighter before turning to the source of the voice, which the spirit was pleased to see was the tall, thin man with half-moon spectacles.

"I am merely making sure that the students go straight to their dormitories without making any unnecessary detours, Headmaster," the man said.

Before any more could be said, the spirit decided to jump in. "I needed to see you, Headmaster," he said as innocently as he could manage, mimicking what the sallow-skinned teacher had called him.

"Fire away then," the headmaster answered, smiling down at the spirit and plainly ignoring the rather unfriendly look on the Dark Arts teacher's face.

"Ah, yes... well, I wanted to learn here at your school, Headmaster," the spirit said bluntly, deciding to get right to the point.

The Dark Arts teacher sneered and seemed on the verge of saying something snide, but the headmaster spoke first. "So are you trying to say that you are not already a student of this school?" Although the look on his face made the spirit feel, though he intensely did not like it, that the man with the half-moon spectacles already knew the whole situation.

The spirit did not answer for a moment, instead allowing his attention to drift over to the students who had chosen to linger by the tables, apparently wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation. At this acknowledgment of their presence, they hurriedly looked away and decided to continue on their way.

The spirit blinked and turned his focus back to the headmaster. "Yes," the spirit said, then continued, realizing that the more honest he was with this man – without being _too_ honest of course – the better. "I actually discovered your school by accident, but I decided I wanted to learn here and the only way I could contact anyone who could help me do so was at this school, so I..." he let it hang at that.

"I see," said the headmaster, with slightly raised eyebrows. "So, in assuming that you wish to learn here at this school, you are asking for my support in this matter, am I correct?"

"Yes, you have it right," the spirit breathed.

"Of course I would be happy to admit you to further your learning at this school," the headmaster began.

The spirit smiled his most benevolent Bakura-smile and tried to appear mildly grateful, although on the inside his smile was at the point where the term 'maniacal' would have been too bland a description. "I thank you..." he said in a soft voice.

"But I'm afraid you cannot be accepted if you don't fulfill the proper criteria," the man said gravely.

For a fraction of a second, the spirit looked as if he had swallowed something sour. Then, rallying himself once more, he asked as innocently as he could, "What sort of criteria?"

"You must have magic in your blood," the headmaster said. "You cannot learn magic by going to school; it must be something that you are born with."

The spirit allowed himself the faintest sigh of relief and resisted the urge to laugh. "Oh, I do have magic," he said, gazing up at the headmaster. _'More than you can imagine, Old Man.'_

The Dark Arts teacher apparently could hold his peace no longer. "Do you now?" he sneered coolly. "So why were you not invited when you were eleven along with all the other students?"

"I have been living separated from those who had magic and did not realize – "

"Half the students that go to this school are muggle-born," the teacher interrupted, evidently interpreting what the spirit had been about to say.

" – that I – Nani ka?" he asked, stopping mid-sentence, temporarily falling back into Japanese in his confusion. He'd heard that word before, back so many hours ago when he'd been back on the train platform, he was certain. "What does that mean?" he asked, remembering to switch back to English once again, wincing slightly at how much he'd sounded like Bakura without meaning to.

The teacher's lip curled slightly as if he were about to say something insulting, but, once again, the headmaster stepped in first. "'Muggle' is our word with someone who has no magic, so when Professor Snape says 'muggle-born' he refers to a witch or wizard that is born from muggles. We have quite a few in our school and they – not unlike yourself – rarely even know of our existence until they receive their letters."

The spirit paused for a moment, taking this information in and deciding how he ought to approach this. "I never received any such letter," he said finally. "Could I have been missed somehow?"

"Doubtful," sneered the Dark Arts teacher.

"It is possible, of course," said the headmaster. "It has not been known to happen before, but there is always a first time for everything."

The spirit smiled innocently as he could and softly spoke, "I'm not sure what you're talking about, but I... I just want to learn here how to use my magic. I've always known that I had something – something that's out of the ordinary, but I never thought it would be to this extent..." the spirit's eye swept over the contents of the room, before returning to the headmaster.

The headmaster had not taken his eyes off the spirit, as if he'd never found anything more interesting than what he had to say. It made Yami Bakura feel a little uncomfortable, because he wasn't used to such undivided attention that seemed so positive. The attention he normally got was marked with either complete loathing or terror.

"Hogwarts doesn't simply turn away students thirsty for knowledge," the headmaster said slowly. "But, before you can start, you must obtain the proper supplies for yourself. Also, you will have to be sorted right away, speaking of which – " The headmaster paused to turn around to face a teacher that happened to still be in the room, evidently having hung back to watch the headmaster converse with the rather bizarre-looking student. The spirit saw that it was the stern woman who'd brought the hat in before the feast.

"Professor McGonagall, would you please go and fetch the sorting hat?" he said in a brusque, business-like tone.

Sending the spirit and the headmaster a curious look, 'Professor McGonagall' turned around and swept from the room without a word.

"_**This will be the most blood-soaked tournament in the last 1,000 years..."**_

Wow, this chapter just kept going on and on... Was hard to find a stopping place. -.-' Anyway, please r & r!


	5. Schedules and Sorting

Btw, replies to reviews are now at the bottom of the page (after the chapter).

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Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

Chapter 5: Schedules and Sorting

The spirit watched as 'Professor McGonagall' swept from the room, apparently heading off to retrieve the sorting hat.

"Now," the headmaster said, turning back to the spirit. "We haven't made our introductions yet. I am Professor Dumbledore, and this is Professor Snape." He gestured to the Dark Arts teacher. "He is Head of Slytherin House and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"My name is Ryou Bakura. Ah, hello..." the spirit said, glancing back and forth between the two professors. Anyone who did not know the spirit well would have thought he was nervous, but in actuality he was evaluating the two before him, calculating.

For some reason, Snape gave the spirit a withering look, which the spirit countered by staring back in innocent confusion, before the headmaster explained kindly, "It is customary at our school to say 'Professor' or 'Sir' to teachers in order to show politeness."

"Ah, I apologize," said the spirit, making a rigid Japanese bow. "Pleased to meet you, Professors."

"Yes, now passing over formalities, we must now decide about your course scheduling," said Dumbledore.

"Course scheduling?" the spirit questioned, looking determinedly at the headmaster rather than catch the eye of the less-than-agreeable Dark Arts teacher again.

"We must determine what classes you are going to take," the headmaster explained patiently. "Now, I am under the impression that you have never attended a school of magic before." He paused for a moment as though waiting for the spirit to disagree. When he didn't, Dumbledore continued, "So I believe we have no choice but to place you in the first year classes with those who are quite a bit younger than yourself; however, since you are so far behind, you may want to consider taking extra classes along with your required classes. Students are usually only allowed to choose their own classes in their third year, but, if you wish it, I think we can make an exception in this case."

The spirit considered for a moment. "What classes are there?" he asked. He wasn't intending on staying here for three years, so he'd probably want to cram as much as he could in this year. "Sir," he added.

"We have quite a variety," the headmaster said. "There is Ancient Runes, Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, Arith – "

"Care of Magical Creatures?" the spirit cut in suddenly in surprise, thinking of his Shadow Monsters and remembering the ghoulish, horse-like creatures pulling the carriages, though he couldn't remember what the girl had called them right away. "I think I'd like that one," he said, then, as he caught the look on the Dark Arts teacher's face, hastily added, "Professor."

The headmaster smiled, apparently not noticing any rudeness, while the Dark Arts teacher just continued to look acidic.

"So you wish to take Care of Magical Creatures? You may take another class in addition if you feel you are up to it."

"I... Are there any you haven't mentioned yet? Sir?" The spirit was getting a little better at the 'Sir'/'Professor' thing, but he still didn't like it much. Why should he have to show respect to people who were more than two thousand years younger than himself? Ah, the things he did for evil...

"There is still Divination," the headmaster said.

"Divination? Divining the future, you mean?" The spirit could hardly believe it, that would be highly useful, even if the power was limited. Perhaps he could hold off on obtaining the Millennium Necklace if this be the case. Perhaps it was like the hat's prediction of the darkness setting in.

"Yes, that is the idea. Though it is a very imprecise branch of magic, I'm afraid," said Dumbledore ruefully.

The spirit was a little bit disappointed by the headmaster's use of the word 'imprecise', but he supposed that it would still be worth knowing. "Yes, that is what I would like to take. Sir."

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "Ah, Professor McGonagall!"

The spirit and Snape turned their heads just in time to see McGonagall striding across the room bearing the dirty old hat the spirit had seen earlier.

McGonagall gave the spirit a hawk-like stare, before turning to the headmaster. "You wanted this, Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, holding up the hat.

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply. "We have a new student and he still needs to be sorted." Dumbledore gestured toward the spirit as he said this.

"A new student?" Professor McGonagall eyebrows shot upward and she turned to survey the spirit. "How can that be?"

"There seems to have been a mistake of some kind with regard to the letters that are normally sent out – " (the Dark Arts teacher made a noise of incredulity in the background) " – but he has found his way here to ask if he can still learn here."

"How unusual," said McGonagall curtly, giving the spirit a suspicious look. "We have never had any late-starters before."

"Yes, I agree that it is a unique situation," said Dumbledore. "But now our more pressing concerns are placing him in his proper House, then arranging for his course schedule and retrieving his supplies."

"Yes of course," agreed McGonagall quickly, as if she felt that she had been asking too many questions. She then turned to the spirit, extending the dirty, tattered hat to him, and said crisply, "Here."

The spirit took it tentatively, holding it in his hand for a moment before placing it on his head, just as he'd seen the young children doing before the feast. Though he tried not to let it happen, the hat slid down so far that it covered his eyes, both the normal one and the magical one, cutting off his vision so that all he could see was the filthy inside of the fabric.

The spirit waited for a moment, tense and alert until –

"Ah, I thought I was done for the year, but never mind... Hmm..."

The spirit nearly yanked the hat off his head, he was so startled. He supposed he shouldn't have been since he'd seen it talking earlier, but there was something about it being right in his ear. Or was it in his head?

"Two minds in one, eh? That's something I haven't seen before. Strangely divided the two of you seem, though."

The spirit made a sudden, slight movement. This hat could see things no one else could. Would he inform the headmaster? Of course, the spirit could always make something up about living in harmony like the pharaoh and his host or something, but he'd prefer it not come to that.

"Yes... One is loyal and brave, and the other is cunning and quick-witted... Where shall I put you, though?"

_'Put me in with those who are like me and not like him,' _the spirit told the hat. He didn't want Bakura interfering in any way with the proceedings.

But the spirit did not get his wish. Ryou Bakura's mind seemed to have awakened to the presence of a third person inhabiting his mind and, although he could not possibly understand what was happening, he seemed to have gotten the gist of it.

_'No!'_ he cried from the depths of his soul room. _'No, don't put me with people like him! Put me with the others...'_

"Considerably divided," the hat commented. "However, to which one should I listen...?"

_'Listen to me,'_ the spirit said vehemently. The hat would never, _could_ never listen to his malleable, docile host over him – he would never permit it, not in three-thousand years. _'I am the one in control.'_

_'No!' _Bakura cried again, sounding desperate. _'NO! I don't want to...!' _

_'Quiet,'_ said the spirit in a low, dangerous voice and Bakura went silent immediately. The spirit felt Bakura's surrender even before his host had begun to retreat slowly back into the confines of his soul room, as the spirit had known he would. He had won and Bakura had lost, as always. But all the same, he would have to make sure his host did not attempt to resist him again in this way.

_'Put me with those who are like myself... Put me with the cunning ones.'_

"Well, if you're both in agreement... Or as close to an agreement as you two will come, then I'll make it..."

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat screamed, and the word, instead of being inside the spirit's head, echoed all throughout the giant hall.

"_**Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." **_

Replies to reviews:

Anei Aikouka: I hope so; Ryou's kinda petulant in my other fic, so I tried to change it somewhat for this one... Heh, and Snape's a really hard character to portray because we don't really know what his motivations/loyalties are yet, but I hope I to keep him in character as best I can.

Computerfreak101: Hmm... can't make any promises. There _is_ lots of Yami Bakura, but after this introduction, there's a huge gap of time with Yami Bakura's involvement being very limited(as in, besides the occasional times he speaks with Bakura, he has little to no involvement). However, I will say that after that gap, he should be appearing much more regularly. And you think I'm breaking the mold? Thank you so much; n.n and I hope you'll continue reading even if Yami Bakura isn't in much action; it's just that I have to describe Bakura getting settled in to his new school... going out to get supplies... etc...

albino-yaoi: Lol, Thanks. Dunno, this fic hasn't been up for very long, so maybe I'll have a hundred reviews by the time I finish it... (Axxonu insists on keeping her little fantasies, encouraged by those 'reach for the stars' seminars that she experiences at school periodically).

So yeah, thank you everyone for reviewing(I really appreciate it) and I say please review to those who are reading this right now n.n

(formerly last updated 8/22/2006, edited 4/28/11)


	6. Explanation in the House of Slytherin

I decided to actually use the time off from school to do something productive. Sorry for taking so long. Computer's been being difficult, so I've been attempting to seek revenge by spending my time playing 7 Trials to Glory on my GBA instead of on the computer and the end result is that my fics don't get updated. (Btw, turns out that Yami Bakura and Malik are actually in that game. Who knew? And Malik is a complete cheater who insists on keeping three of every limited card ever created. Plus, when I try to buy cards from him he overprices them XD So, in short, I absolutely adore that game.)

So yeah, for those who celebrate it, I hope you have a happy Thanksgiving! n.n

**-6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 -6 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. I also don't own the quotes at the end of the chapters, but it's not like anyone reads those anyway, right?

nani ka: Japanese for 'What?'

wakarimasen: Japanese for 'I don't understand'

Chapter 6: Explanation in the House of Slytherin

The spirit strode down the high-ceilinged hallway next to the intimidating form of the Dark Arts teacher, or _Defense Against_ the Dark Arts, as everyone seemed to prefer to call it.

After he'd been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall had given him two pieces of paper; one with his class schedule on it and the other bearing a list of the supplies he needed. Evidently, he couldn't attend the first day of classes without supplies, so he was going to be spending the better part of tomorrow getting them with some friend of the headmaster's as a chaperon.

Now he was being escorted by Professor Snape who was apparently the Head of the House into which the spirit had been sorted to the Slytherin "common room" as per the headmaster's request.

The teacher had seemed rather ill-inclined to be less than sarcastic and malicious when they had first met, but now he did not even speak to the spirit as they traveled down a long, stone staircase and went into a dungeon-like area, not unlike the labyrinth that the spirit had once had to navigate in Pegasus's castle.

They took several turns that might have made someone not experienced with robbing tombs think they were going in circles, but the spirit was instinctively noting the exact route they were taking, so that he'd be sure to be able to find his way back to the main hall with ease if he needed to.

Finally, Snape stopped to face a damp, stone wall. The spirit was a bit confused until the teacher said, "Snake's venom," and the wall moved so as to reveal a hidden doorway.

Snape swept through the entrance and the spirit followed him into a long room with stone walls similar to the castle stones in the labyrinth. Green-colored lamps gave the light they provided a vaguely green tint so that the lamps cast an eerie emerald glow over everything, while a fireplace at the far end of the room provided some additional light, though at the end of the room where the spirit and the Dark Arts teacher now stood was comparatively dim and with long dark shadows raking across their feet.

As soon as the two entered, the students who had been talking in the high-backed chairs near the fireplace went quiet, and turned around to stare at the newcomers.

The Dark Arts teacher didn't even spare them a sideways glance as he crossed the room to reach the entrance to a narrow passageway leading down to many more doorways.

"Your dormitory will be the first on left," Snape informed the spirit. "And remember: common room, six tomorrow morning _sharp_." The Dark Arts teacher whirled around and, in a billowing of robes, exited the room.

The spirit, like the Dark Arts teacher did not even glance at the curious inhabitants of the common room as he sauntered over to the first door on the left and paused for a moment outside it, allowing himself a moment to revel in his success though it did not show in his expression, he gave the door a shove and it swung open.

To his delight, the spirit saw five beds with elaborately carved headboards, each having their own set of green, velvet curtains to ensure that the owner of each bed could have privacy if he wanted. The spirit was less enthused, however, to see four less-than-friendly looking boys already occupying all but one of the beds.

"Who the heck are you?" demanded a rather aggressive looking boy with messy, sand-colored hair.

"Your new roommate apparently," said the spirit dismissively, moving toward the one empty bed which happened to be next to that of a sour, tan-skinned boy. As soon as the spirit sat down the boy scooted as far away as he could, giving the spirit an expression somewhere between apprehension and irritation.

"Oh sure, our new roommate," another boy sneered, this one with black hair combed neatly back, and who seemed to possess a slightly more sophisticated way of speaking, making him sound a bit more educated than the others. "Don't you think you're a bit old to be rooming with first years? Or did they have to wait to admit you because you're mentally handicapped?"

The spirit ignored the pale, black-haired boy and swung the curtains of his four-poster closed. He had more important things to worry about, after all.

The boys continued talking excitedly, about what they would learn at the school, but inevitably expressing all their complaints about it as well. Most of them seemed to have a condescending remark to make just about everything, and the educated black-haired boy seemed to have more to say than the rest. They also weren't the least bit afraid to express their distaste for getting a last-minute addition to their numbers, especially one that was so much older and so weird-looking.

When he was sure they weren't going to throw open the curtains to badger him, the spirit shut them all out and closed his eye, shifting his concentration to the other matter that needed to be addressed.

_/My Host... It is time to wake up now.../ _

The spirit could feel his other self stirring within his soul room. Feeling a little impatient now, the spirit retreated back into the Millennium Ring, forcing Bakura's mind back quite suddenly into its rightful place.

"Nani ka?" Bakura mumbled, gazing around at the thick, green curtains. "Wakarimasen-"

_/I'd advise you not to speak out loud unless you want people to think your mentally unstable – especially talking in Japanese./_

_/You!-/_ he accused before glancing around at his surroundings again._ /This must be a dream. Where am I? Where have you brought me?-/_

As the spirit had suspected, Bakura appeared to have no recollection of his desperate attempt at some control inside the hat. The spirit figured this was just as well, but he was determined that the same thing not happen again.

It had likely been Bakura's subconscious that had argued with him. Now the spirit would just have to inform Bakura's conscious of the situation as well. Bakura would never consciously fight him – not unless his friends were in danger. Bakura would do anything for his friends, but seeing as how they were so very far away at the moment, Bakura should have no reason to defy him.

_/I signed you up at a boarding school,-/_ the spirit answered. _ /And a very prestigious one at that./_

_/A... boarding school?-/_ Bakura asked hollowly._ /What about Yugi and the others?-/ _

_/Oh, they're still in Domino in Japan. But don't worry, I am certain you will like this place,/ _said the spirit, feigning friendliness with his host, as he always did, but more out of routine than anything else.

_/I want to be with my friends.../_ Bakura mumbled sadly, apparently not listening. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his mental voice choked,_ /W-Why... I don't... Where am I?-/_

The spirit considered his host for a moment. _/Take a look at the course schedule and supplies list. They're in your robes./_

"My what?" Bakura mumbled aloud, taking a look for at his long black robes for the first time. "What am I wearing? I look like one of the Ghouls."

_/Didn't I tell you not to speak out loud? These are the uniforms for this school,-/_ said the spirit a little impatiently.

After a moment of staring down at his strange attire, Bakura spoke again. _/You said something about a course schedule...?-/_ He sounded rather unenthusiastic, having apparently resigned himself to the fact that he was stuck at this school whether he liked it or not.

Delighted to have gained his host's cooperation so quickly, the spirit answered generously,_ /They're in your robes, as I said. Even __**you**__ should be able to find them without trouble, seeing as how these clothes only contain a couple of pockets./_

Bakura soon located and drew out the two scraps of paper. His host then began to scan over the supplies list, but the spirit could tell he was not really paying attention to what he was reading.

Bakura had started to put them away, with the spirit being a little disappointed at this complete lack of a reaction, when the boy jerked suddenly after all and his eyes flew back to the list in astonishment. _/Wait a minute,-/ _he said. _/This has to be some kind of joke, doesn't it?-/_

_/What joke?-/_ the spirit asked innocently through the link, although mentally, he was smirking in triumph.

_/Well, the telescope and brass scales I understand, but what sort of school requires a cauldron and a wand?-/_ his host asked, incredulous.

_/Well,-/_ the spirit said slowly, relishing in the moment as he felt the build-up of malicious excitement that had been threatening to explode from his chest ever since this morning rearing up again._ /A school of magic, I suppose./_

_/A school of... magic?-/_ Bakura said quietly, sounding like he was in shock. Then he suddenly let out a soft, nervous laugh that was barely audible.But he sounded surprisingly confident as he said,_ /No, this can't be a school of magic. I know you think I'm naïve, but really./_

This did not upset the spirit in the least; in fact, it only made the unholy fire inside him leap higher as he let out a low, wicked laugh sending chills down his vessel's spine.

_/Heh heh heh heh! And what makes you so sure about that, my Host?-/ _he asked, sneering, and he felt his host flinch.

_/I-I... T-There's no magic outside the Millennium Items. I don't think. S-So how could their be a school...? This must be just a strange cult or something.../_ He added hopefully, _/Or maybe this is all a dream./_

_/I wouldn't be so quick to assume my Host, but we will find out soon enough, won't we? They're supposed to teach the magic in formal classes, which we will begin attending day after tomorrow – /_ then the spirit stopped, for a wonderful idea had just occurred to him. Perhaps it was dangerous, perhaps even recklessly so, but it would make things ever so much easier.

_/Well, actually, I should say __**you'll**__ be attending day after tomorrow./_

His host stopped dead._ /What do you mean____**I'll**__ be attending?-/ _Bakura asked sharply, evidently having gotten over being disturbed by the spirit's laugh and unnerving confidence. The boy was already getting over some of his fear for the moment it seemed.

_/What's the matter? Don't you want to?-/_ the spirit asked,trying valiantly to make it sound as though his host had a choice in the matter.

His host did not answer right away, apparently trying to make up his mind how to respond._ /How does my taking these classes benefit you?-/_ he asked finally.

_/Oh, my dear Host, I thought you'd enjoy it.../ _Sensing that his host was not impressed however, he added,_ /That, and I might not have any special desire to take these, ah, **mortal**classes.../ _

Bakura frowned at the supplies list in his hand, which he was holding so tightly that one side was completely wrinkled. _/So basically you don't want to lower yourself that far. But you still want to learn the magic, so you're going to make me learn it instead./ _In the boy's voice there laid a hint of bitterness at the acknowledgment; he knew he was being manipulated, as always.

_/Quite the clever host,-/_ the spirit said._ /You'll do just fine in the classes we are to take. And I believe you will need to be especially clever if you do not want to be on that Professor Snape's bad side./_

_/Professor Snape?-/_ Bakura asked curiously.

_/The Dark Arts teacher,-/_ the spirit said.

_/There's a __**Dark Arts**__ class?-/_ Bakura asked in horror. He scanned his schedule, searching for that particular class. It took him a little while before he found the class that he assumed was the one the spirit had been referring to.

_/You mean __**Defense Against**__ the Dark Arts?-/_ Bakura asked in exasperation.

_/It doesn't make much of difference. Anyway, speaking of Professor Snape – /_

_/Hey!-/_ his host said suddenly, his eyes roving over the schedule again._ /This schedule is in English./_

If the spirit had been in control of Bakura's body, he would have rolled his eyes._ /Finally noticed that, did you? It's not that unusual as it _is_ the national language here in this country. I believe you call it 'England.'-/_

Bakura's eyes widened shock as he processed this information. "We're in... _England_?" he whispered softly.

The spirit could feel his host's emotions rushing through their link as it sank in how very far they were from the people he knew and cared for. The spirit shoved this aside and continued on._ /As I was saying, this Snape wants us down in the common room by six tomorrow morning, so he can show us what Floo powder is./_

_/What's Floo Powder?-/_ Bakura asked, sounding determined not to think about where he was for the moment.

_/No idea. That would be the point of _showing us what it is_. Dumbledore told Snape to 'inform us on the use of Floo powder,' after he told us to get our supplies in Dye-uh-gone Alley, instead of going to classes with everyone else,-/_ the spirit explained, reeling off everything he could remember of what the headmaster had said.

_/And I think that's all you need to know, so you'd better go to sleep now if you plan on waking up and getting to the common room by the designated time. Snape doesn't strike me as the forgiving type. And he might dislike you less if you use 'Sir' or 'Professor' at the end of every sentence. Though you're supposed to do that with all the teachers. Not that that will likely be a problem for a spineless sycophant such as you anyway./ [accommodating (TH?)]_

_/I call that just trying to be polite,-/ _Bakura muttered, but the spirit ignored him.

The spirit, after thinking of no more advice to give, had begun to settle back into his soul room when his host suddenly spoke again.

_/Hold on a moment.../_ Bakura said suddenly as his gaze, which had been going over his schedule again, focused on his left hand which he brought within an inch of nose. _/Am I... Is my left eye... **blind**?-/_

Ah, and in all of his detailed explanations, the spirit had had a feeling that he'd left out something important...

"_**You may not believe it, but I care for my master." **_

I decided to use the 'reply' option(who knew there even was a reply option?) from my profile for most of the reviews since they were so incredibly long(for some reason, I was really in a talking mood ... it must be the prospect of four whole days without school ahead of me :D) and I may start using that instead having them here.

Sazume: Thanks n.n yeah I was updating fairly quickly since I was kinda obsessing over this fic, but things are slowing down a little now. Mainly because my computer's gone wonky and will let me on my account half the time and will bar me out the other half. (sigh, good computers are so hard to come by these days; everything's dominated by microsoft)

Death King of Destruction: You better believe it! XD

Thank you Sazume, albino-yaoi, Computer freak101, Anei Aikouka, (wow, I went to post and I saw two more reviews; that was a nice shock n.n) Zack Strith, and Death King of Destruction for reviewing and I tell everyone reading this to please review!

(last edited 7/25/06, so likely first posted around that time)


	7. Floo Powder

Sorry for taking so long, everyone! I haven't been working on my fics at all for the last two weeks... But anyway, here it is. Oh, and it hasn't helped that I haven't been able to get on my account again... (sigh)

**-7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7-7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 -7 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

Chapter 7: Floo Powder

Bakura moaned slightly and rolled over. He could wait just a few more minutes before going to school, he didn't have to be there _too_ early...

His eye opened ever so slightly, before he closed it again as he settled back into the warmth of his bed. But one thing prevented him from going back to sleep. _'Green curtains?' _ His eye snapped back open and he sat up suddenly, gazing in horror at the emerald hangings.

_'No!'_ he thought frantically. Hadn't that been a dream? All of that nonsense the dark spirit had been talking about – He couldn't have _really_ been dragged all the way to England to learn in some school of magic, could he? Or _Witchcraft and Wizardry_ as the supplies list had said – a supplies list written on _parchment_ of all things. No, it had to have been a nightmare, but then what were these emerald curtains doing hanging around his bed?

Bakura touched his face, feeling the silk scarf and underneath it, the cold metal in his head where his left eye had used to be. He felt bile rise in his throat. This couldn't be real, none of it.

And with a start, Bakura suddenly remembered he was supposed to meet a Professor Snape in the 'common room.' He leaped up from his bed and threw back the velvet curtains. He ran toward the door and wrenched it open, barely sparing half a glance at the other boys in his dormitory. He looked both ways in the dark, stone hallway and chose to run up toward the light.

As he reached the entrance to what he assumed to be the common room, he hesitated, taking in the extravagant furnishings of the many tall-backed chairs and the the green-ish lamps hanging from the high ceiling. He was suddenly aware of how unkempt he must look in the midst of these high-class, almost elegant surroundings, long-white hair tangled from sleep and his baggy, ill-fitting robes he'd been forced to sleep in disheveled and hopelessly wrinkled. He tried to smooth his hair and clothes as best he could to make himself a little more presentable as he came further into the room.

As Ryou's gaze fell on the beautifully-carved stone mantel of a fireplace at one end of the room, he noticed for the first time a figure who he assumed must be Professor Snape standing by it, his thin frame silhouetted against the flames.

When the Professor spoke, his voice was oddly quiet, yet somehow seemed to fill the room with a certain tension that made it so Bakura could not help but pay rapt attention.

"You're late."

Ryou bit his lip hard and glanced at the giant clock face on the wall reading two-after-six.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled. "I..."

But Professor Snape did not wait for him to finish. Instead, he turned his back to Bakura so as to face the fireplace and said, "I assume you've brought your list of supplies with you?"

Bakura nodded mutely, his throat tight with nerves. Then, realizing that the Professor couldn't see him said, "Yes, Sir."

"As you know, you will be traveling by Floo powder," said the Professor coldly, then paused a moment to reach into his robes and pull out what looked like a small bottle of ink. "You merely distribute the powder over the fire, then step into it and say the name of the place to which you are traveling – Diagon Alley in this case."

_'I have to step into a fire,' _he thought, being oddly more calm about it than he actually felt.Step into a fire, of course. So these people really were insane after all. Maybe they were like the spirit of his Millennium Ring, and this man would get a sort of sadistic pleasure from watching Bakura step into a fire and get torched alive. They were _really_ insane though if they thought he was going to commit suicide just like that.

...And he meant to tell the creepy, greasy-haired teacher as much, but one look into those dark, tunnel-like eyes and the words died on his tongue. Instead, he ended up saying in a strangely squeaky tone, "Yes, Sir." Perhaps the spirit had been right about him being an utterly spineless sycophant [TH?]. He knew it was just sad if someone wasn't even confrontational enough to speak up to save his own life.

At this point, Professor Snape began unscrewing the lid of the bottle carefully, then extended it to Bakura.

Bakura leaned forward a little to see over the rim of the small, black ink bottle and saw that it was not filled with ink at all, but with a pretty sort of glittering dust.

He gazed at it for a moment, transfixed, before he reached forward and took a handful. Although he took great care to cup it securely between his hands, he could not prevent some of it seeping through his fingers onto floor.

Bakura took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped up to the fireplace. He took one last look at the Professor, whose expression did not contain the least bit of sympathy, before 'distributing' the sparkling powder over the fire.

The flames suddenly leaped upward, rising so high that they were taller than Bakura, and turned a bright emerald almost as deep as that of his bed curtains. Taking this as a good sign, Bakura stepped forward tentatively and, just as he'd made it into the center of the fire, he heard Snape say in a strangely indifferent tone, "Oh, and unless you plan on losing them, I'd suggest you hold your arms tightly at your sides."

Bakura had been relieved that the fire had not burned him, but Professor Snape's warning caused fresh panic to manifest itself inside his chest. Why was it that the most important information always get crammed into the last minute?

In his anxiety, he almost forgot to say the name of the place he was supposed to be going, but then he remembered and cried out as loud and clearly as he could, "Diagon Alley!"

Before he had time to think he felt himself being sucked through some sort of very large pipe, images of fireplaces in random people's homes flashing before his eyes. He was spinning so fast that centrifugal force gave him trouble when trying to take the teacher's advice to keep his arms pinned to his sides, and there was a sort of loud roaring in his ears – like ocean waves crashing against the side of a cliff.

Bakura couldn't believe this was happening. This must be the magic the spirit had spoke of. But no, all this just had to be some kind of trick. A hallucination perhaps.

Bakura shut his eyes tightly, wishing that anything would happen to end this horrible experience as the nauseatingly violent spin of the emerald flames continued.

Then, without warning, Bakura was abruptly thrown from the fireplace onto a cold stone floor.

He slowly got to his feet, gingerly rubbing his forehead and his elbows – the main points of impact. He gazed around the room with his one eye, taking in the dark, shabby appearance of the place. He seemed to be in some kind of pub with people sitting at the tables with their drinks, smoking pipes. Some gave Bakura an occasional glance in dull interest, but otherwise seemed remarkably unperturbed by a person erupting out of the fireplace.

Bakura swallowed the bile that had been collecting in his throat since the beginning of his long journey through the chimney, though as he had not eaten breakfast there was little change of his throwing up. He glanced furtively all around him, suddenly realizing that he had absolutely no idea where to go or what to do. Even if he did somehow by some miracle go out and manage to find his supplies, how would he get back to the school? He didn't know if there was any more of that powder on this end, and even if there was, he didn't remember what the other place was called. Maybe the name was on the lists.

Just as he, starting to feel panicky, reached for the pieces of paper in his robes, he caught sight of a short, plump woman with flaming red hair making her way across the room toward him.

Perhaps she had noticed how lost he looked. So in other words, her interest in him could either be that she thought she might be able to help him, or that he looked like a sucker who'd make a good target to have his pocket picked. Not that she looked like the type, but then, Bakura himself didn't look like the type to have murdered the creator of Duel Monsters in a shadow game. In any case, it didn't look like he would be getting any help from any of the clientèle in this dingy establishment should she decide to mug him.

At this thought, Bakura swallowed hard and busied himself with staring determinedly at the the grubby floor as if he found the hundreds of gray and brown stones the most fascinating things in the world. It was more of a reflex defensive action than anything as he wasn't carrying any money at the moment anyway, but there was always the chance that she had accomplices waiting in the wings who would beat him up just for the fun of it anyway.

_'Please, don't come this way. I'm not here, I am invisible. I'm not lost.'_ Then –

"You wouldn't be Ryou Bakura by any chance, would you dear?"

Involuntarily, Bakura's eye snapped upward and met that of the red-haired woman. She knew his name. Only question was, was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"Hai. I-I mean yes. Yes, I'm Bakura..."

A wide smile spread across the woman's face. "Ah, yes. I thought so when I saw that you were none too experienced with Floo powder..."

Bakura didn't answer, but it suddenly occurred to him that she had been waiting for him. It was certainly a relief, but he could not help but wonder who it was who would have sent for her. Professor Snape, perhaps? No, Bakura thought he remembered the spirit mentioning that it had been someone else orchestrating everything so far.

"So, you look surprised to see me. Surely Professor Dumbledore told you I was coming?" she said, eyebrows raised.

"Uh, he might have," Bakura answered non-committedly as he privately suspected that the spirit might have been withholding this rather important piece of information from him. He wished he had tried to squeeze the spirit for all the details of what Bakura was supposed to know concerning this little outing when he'd had the chance, but of course he had been a little preoccupied.

He suddenly felt sick at the thought, reminded again of what now lied in his head.

_'Don't think about it,'_ he told himself.

"Anyway, you can call me Mrs. Weasley," said the woman. "The headmaster sent me to help you get your supplies."

Bakura nodded mutely, not especially looking forward to wandering around looking for school supplies on an empty stomach.

Almost as if she'd read his mind, Mrs. Weasley said, "But I suppose you haven't had breakfast yet this early in the morning. Don't worry, we'll have to get you something. You do look rather thin..."

Bakura smiled appreciatively. It was a relief to find that the people in this society weren't_ all_ like Professor Snape.

"_**As long as I still have some use for him... anyone who harms him will have to answer to me."**_

Poor Professor Snape. He's just misunderstood, is all. lol Anyway, please read and review! (btw, I know this is another short chapter, but the next one should be really long to make up for it)

So yeah, and... (is being lazy again and not replying to them all individually U.U Désolé!-) Thank you, thank you, thank you! Peter Joo Kim (it's difficult for me to reply by e-mail since I only have my parents address to use, but maybe we can work something out?-) Earthpaw, Destiny's Dragon, expletive deleted, Death King of Destruction, erosgirl, Sazume, and Computerfreak101, Thank you!

Sniff... I find myself... unable to express my appreciation in words... but just know that I really value each and everyone's thoughts/comments/support and it really makes this all worth while!

erogirl: Oh, yeah. Thanks for pointing that out. I put those things in mainly because he says them both in book one, but since I'm trying more for the book six(more serious) Dumbledore, I might want to change those. I don't know when I'll get around to changing it, but all the same, I'm glad to just be aware of it. n.n

(first version last edited 12/17/2005)


	8. Gringotts

**-8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 -8 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them.

Ano: Japanese for 'um'.

Chapter 8: Gringotts

After a wonderfully refreshing meal in the dirty little pub, Bakura was feeling a lot less cynical about the situation and he couldn't help but be a little excited. Meeting new people, seeing new places – if he tried to forget about the fact that he had had his body dragged halfway around the world and away from his friends against his will, he might almost be able to count this as a fun adventure of sorts. How many people actually got the chance to attend a school of magic?

Granted, Bakura wasn't completely sold on the fact that this magic _really_ existed; there was still the possibility this was all a long, convoluted dream. But he had to admit the fireplace episode had not felt particularly dreamlike.

Bakura followed Mrs. Weasley through the pub and out into a small courtyard. All the while he glanced this way and that, looking for where they were heading to to get out of this place, but all he could see was a dead end with rough brick walls on all sides with only an old rusted trash can and a few weeds to decorate the place. Instinctively, he looked back at Mrs. Weasley, thinking perhaps she had gotten turned around, though he wondered if she was secretly a mugger after all.

She did not look sneaky or lost in the least however and she walked up to the wall opposite them, stopping next to the trash can. She pulled out a polished wooden stick and tapped one of the bricks three times, before backing up to stand next to Bakura.

To Bakura's astonishment, the brick shuddered and then began wriggle in place, as though it had suddenly realized it was being constrained by the other bricks, and not liking it one bit. Then the other bricks began to move as well, initiated by the first, moving away from one another until a large hole big enough for them to walk through had formed in the wall.

Bakura just stared in shock, his eye wide. But now his gaze was no longer focused on the tall archway through which Mrs. Weasley was now heading, but at the cobblestoned street beyond lined with bizarre, yet wonderful-looking shops.

"Well, come on dear," said Mrs. Weasley over her shoulder, smiling a little at Bakura's amazement.

Bakura hastily stepped through the archway, pausing to turn around and watch it close behind him. Then, slowly, he redirected his attention back to the oddest little shops he'd ever seen.

The one that caught his eye first was one advertising for all sorts of cauldrons. Bakura turned to Mrs. Weasley and said, "I think there was a cauldron on my list..."

"Oh, yes," she answered. "But we need to get money from Gringotts first."

Bakura raised his eyebrows. "Gringotts?"

"The wizard bank, dear," said Mrs. Weasley absently as she led him down the long street.

But Bakura was no longer interested in some unknown building with a slightly funny name, for now he had all the shops and the people bustling around outside them to draw his attention. Although many of the windows in the ally were covered with large, purple posters, and posters with large blown up black-and-white images that were moving, he saw vast piles of what looked like quills, ink bottles, and rolls of parchment.

He also saw a shop filled to the brim with all colors of owls and he saw barrels upon barrels in the shop windows labeled to be holding the strangest of ingredients, most of which an ordinary person would cringe at even thinking about but fascinated Bakura as they appealed to his long-held interest in the occult, and even a shop that sold robes, like the ones Bakura and apparently everyone else were wearing.

Occasionally, among these seemingly normal people Bakura noticed some with rather grim expressions, standing next to the shop doors looking almost like guards. When Mrs. Weasley caught Bakura staring at them, she said, "Aurors. They've been stationed practically everywhere since the Ministry finally acknowledged that You-Know-Who is back..."

Rather than satisfy him, this only spurred a hundred new questions in Bakura's mind, but he refrained from asking most of them and instead only settled on one. "Who's You-Know-Who?" he asked.

"It's hard to believe that's there's _anyone_ who doesn't know who You-Know-Who is, but I suppose muggle-borns... Well, to put it simply, he's a very evil wizard. The most evil wizard that's ever lived in fact, if you ask me. No one even dares to say his name. He's the one responsible for this war we are now facing." She drew her old, patched up winter cloak closer around herself as though it had suddenly gotten colder.

Upon the words 'very evil', Bakura unwittingly found himself fingering his Millennium Ring under his clothes. He suddenly felt uncomfortable, and turned his attention back to the crowds.

Now that he was paying real attention, he noticed that the people seemed to be staying in tighter groups than one would think necessary. His eye roved over the purple posters and caught the heading of one that said: PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES. Underneath this was evidently a list of instructions on how to be more secure and safe, but Bakura didn't understand a lot of it as they used many foreign words such as 'Inferi' and 'Imperius Curse'. The posters with moving pictures Bakura realized upon further examination were wanted posters as the people represented in them leered down at him.

Bakura shivered involuntarily, and moved so that he was walking a little closer to the short red-haired woman.

"Ah, here we are," she said, causing Bakura to shift his attention from the suddenly sinister-looking street to the building that Mrs. Weasley was looking at. He blinked, feeling almost blinded by the marble-white building towering over the little shops, which now looked insignificant by comparison. Bakura's eye wandered to the gigantic bronze doors guarded by several short, not quite human creatures with their abnormally long fingers and toes. They were dressed in bright scarlet-and-gold colored clothing that only added to the way they stood out from the everyone else there.

Bakura had to try hard not to stare as they traveled up though the bronze doors and entered a sort of entrance hall. They found themselves facing a new set of silver doors that led into the main building.

They were forced to stop at this point as two more of the creatures ran up to them and began sticking little gold squiggly sticks at them, almost as though they were scanning for potential weapons as would be done at an airport.

As Bakura and Mrs. Weasley waited for the guards to finish the inspection, Bakura noticed that there was a message inscribed on the silver doors in a beautiful, curving style of writing. Curious, he leaned a little closer and read:

_Enter stranger, but take heed_

_ Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_ For those who take, but do not earn,_

_ Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_ So if you seek beneath our floors_

_ A treasure that was never yours,_

_ Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_ Of finding more than treasure there._

Bakura felt a sort of unpleasant lurch of giddiness from the back of his mind that felt unnatural to him, as though the emotion had been artificially planted there by an outside source.

_/Heh, more than treasure, eh? Now that's cute. Of course, it's hardly impressive as I'd expect nothing less from the most pathetic of the greatest pharaohs' tombs, but I have to admit that now I'm curious. Perhaps I should take them up on their challenge./_

Bakura swallowed hard, wishing he hadn't just heard that. But there wasn't anything he could really do he told himself, so he resolved to pretend he hadn't just heard that. Surely no one could blame him for pretending he didn't hear voices in his head.

Bakura followed Mrs. Weasley through the silver doors into the lobby, where Bakura saw more of the creatures sitting on high stools behind a long counter, most seeming to be doing everything in a rush apparently in some vain hope of keeping the ever-lengthening lines moving. Bakura wondered vaguely if they would be here all day. He looked over at Mrs. Weasley, hoping that her reaction would be less than horrified.

Upon seeing the look on Bakura's face, Mrs. Weasley said, "Security's been tight around here lately, so it takes _hours_ just to get one sickle." She made a distasteful look at the long line. "But we don't really have much choice in the matter, so we'll just have to wait with everyone else."

Bakura didn't really mind, at least of first. He had no great lack of patience, but after fifteen minutes of the line had not budged, Bakura started to realize that Mrs. Weasley had been being literal when she'd said _hours_.

It didn't help that every two minutes the creatures came to scan them with their bizarre-looking scanners, completely invading any personal space that Bakura had managed to save in the huge crowd.

_/Irritating,-/_ muttered the spirit._ /But it would appear the shadow power of the Millennium Items interferes with whatever those objects are supposed to do. Perhaps I did not need to use my own soul after all, but I suppose it was better to be safe./_

Bakura pretended not to hear, and found it fairly easy to do as he had no idea what the spirit was talking about anyway.

"I should have brought my knitting..." Mrs. Weasley said with a sigh, and Bakura felt a little guilty, effectively distracting himself from the spirit's unsettling and unwelcome intermittent comments. This woman was effectively wasting her whole day just to help him get his school supplies. He could only hoped she was getting paid for it at least.

Bakura decided to try and strike up a conversation in order to keep himself and Mrs. Weasley occupied. Perhaps now was a good time to get started on those 'hundred questions' from earlier.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Bakura said tentatively, trying to get her attention.

"Yes?" said Mrs. Weasley turning to look at him, the almost permanent look of irritation she'd adopted while watching the people in line directly ahead of them being replaced for the moment with a friendly smile.

"Well, I've been wondering about many of the different things I've been hearing. Like, what are muggle-borns? I heard you mention them earlier."

Mrs. Weasley glanced back at the long line, looking impatient with those in front of them again and answered, "Muggles are people who have no magic, so muggle-borns are people who were born into non-wizarding families, but have magic, like yourself."

Bakura raised his eyebrows. So that meant the magic was mainly hereditary, which was interesting. He supposed it made sense though. In fact, it seemed stranger to think that random people outside could gain magic by pure chance.

"How would anyone not born in a magic family know what they were then?" Bakura wanted to know. "I guess you would have to tell them. But how do you know they're there? Is it just by chance?"

"Bless me, no," said Mrs. Weasley, turning her full attention back to Bakura and actually chuckling a little. "It would be utter chaos. Just imagine trying to get all the right students to the school and not inviting the wrong people... No, there's definitely a more sure way it's handled."

"How?" Bakura asked curiously.

"Well, I don't understand how it works _exactly_, but from what I've heard there's some sort of ancient quill enchanted to write down the names of all wizards and witches born into the world – even muggle-borns. Letters are sent out to all the people on the list."

Ah ha, so the spirit must have opened the letter and decided the school looked interesting. Bakura wondered if, given the choice, he himself would have decided to come to this school. Bakura knew he would have been interested at the very least. Should he have decided to go, he would have at least had time to tell Yugi and the others where he was going. It would have been better that way. Strange that the spirit hadn't even tried to convince him, to pretend to give him the choice to agree to the plan before setting off.

"That's what makes it so strange that you were skipped. It's never happened before, but I suppose we wouldn't know if it did happen if it was to a muggle-born..."

Bakura blinked suddenly. He stared straight ahead, eyes slightly widened, then slowly turned his head to stare at Mrs. Weasley.

She glanced at him and appeared to notice the look on his face. "Something wrong?" she asked.

Bakura shook his head and forced himself to assume a calm, more natural expression again. "No, it's nothing. Just... no, never mind." Bakura turned his attention to the front of the line where the people waiting were getting closer to getting into their vaults, and he tried valiantly to keep his face blank.

Now, what could it mean that he hadn't gotten a letter? It seemed that all wizard and witch children received letters. What were the chances that he would have been skipped by mistake? Low, that was all he knew. As low as he was starting to feel right now.

And without meaning to, he started to finger the Millennium Ring under his robes. Perhaps he did not belong here. No, of course he didn't, all his magic would no doubt come from the Millennium Ring. Ryou Bakura was ordinary and helpless as always, and it was only because of that accursed object that he would be considered special by anyone...

He blinked again. But no, not just the Ring now. Now he had magic that also came from the Millennium Eye.

His guard down, as Bakura's thoughts strayed unexpectedly back to the sphere of gold that had once taken residence in another man's head – a man that was now dead – Bakura felt a wave of cold nausea wash through him once again and he doubled over, closing his eye and covering his mouth.

"Dear, are you sure you're all right?" asked Mrs. Weasley, sounding very worried now.

Bakura shook his head to clear it, then mumbled, "Yes..." He opened his eye and looked up at Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, I'm fine. You don't need to worry."

He closed his eye a moment and took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of himself. He just needed to concentrate on not thinking of it. Just put it out of his head, he told himself… Which was a bit of an ironic sentiment, now that he thought about it.

"Just a bit of vertigo from standing too long," he told Mrs. Weasley, but from the look on her face he could tell she didn't quite believe him. Something about his tone and face always gave him away whenever he tried to lie.

Straightening up, he searched for something to say to change the subject, but was granted a short reprieve when the short, long-fingered creatures chose that moment to come up and scan them, shoving the squiggly sticks in their faces once again. After they'd deemed that he and Mrs. Weasley hadn't managed to obtain a weapon of any sort since the last time they'd checked five minutes ago and had moved on to the next party of people standing in line, Bakura coughed and leaned over to ask in a whisper, "What are... I mean, I don't mean to be rude, but... are they... _human_?"

She had apparently decided to be satisfied with Bakura's earlier answer concerning his well-being despite the obvious false note in his tone, as she had gone back to looking slightly harassed by the presence of the crowd. At Bakura's words, she stopped bobbing up and down trying to see the front of the line and turned to face Bakura. "What? Oh, no, they're not human. They're goblins. Goblins have always run Gringotts."

_'Goblins?'_ Bakura looked back at the creatures in interest, for he couldn't help but think of Jonouchi's Goblin Attack Force, even though the gold-and-scarlet adorned creatures hardly resembled his friend's duel monster card at all.

The minutes ticked by rather slowly, only speeding up once in a while when Bakura would ask a question or two about the Wizarding community. Mrs. Weasley kept throwing anxious glances toward the front of the line, but was otherwise as bored as Bakura, so he ended up receiving all the answers and explanations he could have wanted.

Two hours after their arrival, they finally reached the front of the line and it was their turn to speak to the goblin behind the counter.

"We'd like to take some money out of the Hogwarts vault," said Mrs. Weasley as she handed him a letter made of parchment.

"Fine," said the goblin irritably as he scanned the letter. The goblin swung a long-fingered hand to point at another goblin standing nearby, though his eyes never moved from the letter even as he did so. "He'll lead you there then."

Mrs. Weasley and Bakura followed the goblin to one of the many doors leading out of the giant hall and the goblin held the door open for them.

As Bakura entered, he gazed around. In sharp contrast to the white marble that had filled the giant room, this was a narrow, stone passageway that reminded Bakura somewhat of the corridor he'd taken that morning in going up to the common room except for the railway tracks on the floor and steeply descending slope.

Their guide made a sort of funny whistling sound and in reply, a cart came shooting up the tracks, coming to a sudden halt directly in front on them. The goblin and Mrs. Weasley clambered in without a second look back, and Bakura reluctantly followed. Surely, he thought hopefully, the vehicle would move slower when it was holding passengers. No such luck.

As quickly as the cart had arrived, it shot off and Bakura sat as rigid as a board, his hands white as he clenched the sides of the cart as hard as he could. He'd never minded roller coasters much, but there was something about about sitting in a small, rusty box, hurtling down a dark corridor without having any restraints, and having the freezing cold air biting his face that made him feel less than secure.

Bakura glanced at the goblin again and swallowed. Perhaps he was just at the wrong angle, or maybe it was the lighting, but it appeared to him as if the goblin wasn't steering. In fact, as they reached many different intersections, so many in fact that Bakura lost track of just how many and couldn't have found his way back to the entrance if his life depended on it, and the cart shot around sharp turn after sharp turn, the goblin didn't do anything at all. Either the goblin was controlling it psychically, the cart was running on some kind of self-guidance system, or, as Bakura thought seemed most likely at the moment, they were hopelessly lost.

There being nothing he could do about things as usual, Bakura turned his attention to their surroundings. Although they were going so fast that it made it hard to see much of anything, he did manage to catch glimpses of huge stalagmites and stalactites as they entered a lake area and he remembered vaguely that the difference between the two had been one hung from the ceiling while the others stuck up from the floor, but he couldn't remember which was which. Perhaps Yugi would have remembered if he'd been there.

At last, the cart came to an abrupt stop and Bakura was the first one to stumble out, glad to be rid of the rush of cold air against his face and the feeling he was just about to be thrown out of a rickety little cart going about a hundred miles an hour.

Bakura rubbed his arms as he waited for Mrs. Weasley and the goblin. Neither looked the least bit ruffled by the ride.

The goblin walked up to the vault nearest to the cart and unlocked it. Mrs. Weasley promptly hurried in while Bakura hung back a bit, but then soon followed timidly as he didn't particularly like the idea of being left out in the cold dungeon hall alone. Inside, Bakura saw that the vault was filled with piles and piles of gold, silver, and bronze coins.

He'd never had much of a soft spot for money, but he couldn't help but be amazed. He picked up one of the gold coins and examined it before turning to Mrs. Weasley. "These are the kinds of coins wizards use? Do I need to know what to they're called?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, these are what we use. And oh yes, if you want to buy anything, you probably should know which ones are which. It's simple, just remember that the gold ones are Galleons, the silver are Sickles, and the bronze are Knuts. Galleons are worth the most; seventeen Sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts in a Sickle."

Bakura looked back at the gold Galleon, glimmering in the torch light with slight incredulity. With numbers like twenty-nine and seventeen, working with amounts of money must be a nightmare. He had a feeling he would have already forgotten them by tomorrow.

Bakura blinked suddenly and shook his head. A funny feeling of overbalancing had just passed over him, like he'd stood up too quickly. He glanced around at his surroundings in confusion. And he suddenly realized the Galleon he'd been looking at was missing.

"Ryou, Dear?"

Bakura turned around, a little thrown by the use of his first name, but decided not to dwell on it as he saw Mrs. Weasley already sitting in the cart, ready to go. "Ano... Yes?" he said.

"We're all done here, so let's get going. We still have plenty to do today."

"Ah... right," Bakura said uncertainly and headed over to the cart. That had certainly been fast. Somehow Mrs. Weasley had managed to get everything they needed without his even noticing.

Bakura shrugged to himself. It must be some other magical twist in this strange world. As he climbed apprehensively into the little cart once more, he couldn't help but wonder to himself if he would ever get used to all this.

Once again, they were hurtling through the darkness in their small rusty box, only this time they were hurtling upward toward the surface instead of down into the earth. Knowing this made this trip a little better though not much as the dark, even by the light of the torches, obscured much of Bakura's sense of gravity and the cart wasn't going any slower than it had before even going up. At one point, Bakura thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of one pathway and for some reason he found himself thinking of Kaiba's dragon cards. He didn't get to see if it really was a dragon though as the cart was moving too fast, but for some bizarre reason the thought of something so familiar – even a dragon – actually calmed him some.

Bakura was glad when the cart finally came to a stop and he could stumble out of the stone corridor and back into the marble hall. He rubbed his arms as he entered, but as it turned out that wasn't all that necessary as the room was plenty warm from all the people still standing in line.

Mrs. Weasley quickly followed, clutching a large bag of coins which Bakura eyed curiously. She immediately went ahead and began weaving her way through the crowds with Bakura hard-pressed to keep up.

Finally, they reached the other side of the hall where the silver doors they had entered through more than two hours earlier were waiting for their escape.

"_**It appears that underneath that innocent mask is the face of a thief."**_

Replies to reviews:

Computerfreak101: LOL, yes, I see what you're saying. I would say that Snape's 'misunderstood' much in the way that dragons are 'misunderstood'. (poor Hagrid, he just doesn't get it, does he? XD)

Earthpaw: Naw, Snape had classes to teach. Will Harry be friends with him? Hmm... well, let's just say he won't be replacing the Yugi-group anytime soon.

Anei Aikouka: Yeah, but he'll have to adjust eventually... he's got a whole year ahead of him, after all. ;D

erosgirl: Well, he had to have someone help him get his stuff in Diagon Alley and I wanted it to be someone familiar. Oh, and he, ano, never really got dressed. He slept in the robes his yami stole, 'cause he didn't really have anything else to wear at that point(hm, I probably should have drawn more attention to that fact, since Bakura's rather hygienic, shouldn't I?).

Questions? Comments? Use that little blue box in the corner, s'il vous plaît.

(first vers. last edited 1/19/2007)


	9. Diagon Alley

And so... my plans for using my week off from school to work on my fics goes down the drain... What? How was _I_ supposed to know that those six box sets of Rurouni Kenshin I put a hold on at the library would come in at the same time? But I decided to use my last day at least, so here's chapter 9. n.n

**-9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9 -9**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 9: Diagon Alley

After they'd successfully left the bank (only after being searched by the goblins yet again), Mrs. Weasley told Bakura that they should probably get his robes now since Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was close by.

As they entered the shop, they were welcomed by a short woman dressed in brilliant, violet robes who Bakura assumed to be Madame Malkin.

"Hello, how may I help you?" she asked.

"He needs his school robes," said Mrs. Weasley nodding at Bakura.

Madame Malkin looked faintly surprised. "Hogwarts? Isn't the school year already started?"

"Yes, well, he's starting a bit late" was Mrs. Weasley said, though it was probably the understatement of the century. Madame Malkin shrugged and did not ask any more questions. Instead, she led Bakura to the back of the shop and Mrs. Weasley followed.

"He already has some robes, I see," said Madame Malkin. "But they are too large around the middle for him and they're so long it's a wonder he can walk properly." She gave the robes a distasteful look. "I hate to admit it, but they _do _look like they were made at this shop. But I certainly don't remember..."

Bakura shifted uncomfortably. "I'm borrowing them," he said a bit lamely, hoping that by not making eye contact his lie wouldn't be as obvious. "Temporarily."

He breathed a slight sigh of relief when Madame Malkin didn't press the matter and simply said, "Well, no matter. Just take them off, I can't fit you properly wearing those awful things."

Bakura blinked in surprise, flushing slightly before realizing she was only referring to his robes. "Oh, right." Bakura slid the dirty, rumpled robes over his head, careful not to bother the silk scarf wrapped around his head, before discarding them onto the floor.

"And that, too," she said, eying Bakura's long black trench coat which Bakura had no memory of ever buying.

After he had removed all Madame Malkin had asked him to, with his trench coat making a sort of odd jangling sound as it hit the floor that luckily Mrs. Weasley and Madame Malkin didn't seem to notice, she stood him on a stool and began pinning a long, nice-looking set of black robes to the right length.

The rest of the time was mainly spent in silence, as Madame Malkin was busy working on Bakura's robes and Mrs. Weasley didn't look like she felt like talking much, having regained that look of impatience she'd had at Gringotts.

Bakura was glad to finally be finished as he left carrying his packages of clean black robes. He'd reluctantly took the dirty, probably stolen robes with him even though he had no idea what he would do with them. He supposed the spirit had taken them, so the spirit would have to deal with it. He threw his trench coat over his shoulder and they set off once again.

Their next stop was a book store called Flourish and Blotts. Bakura, who'd always been a bit of a book-worm, was delighted when he caught sight of the magnificent collection of the many sizes and colors of books, loaded on shelves reaching all the way to the ceiling.

Mrs. Weasley immediately went to get Bakura's textbooks, supply list in hand, and left Bakura standing near the entrance. Bakura did not mind; on the contrary, he soon found himself deeply immersed in a book about wizard games and strategies. When Mrs. Weasley came back, having bought everything he needed, he put the book reluctantly back on the shelf and they left to go on to the next shop.

They moved quickly in and around clusters of tightly protective groups of witches and wizards until they found themselves back at the beginning, near the wall through which they'd entered the alley earlier.

Mrs. Weasley led him to the cauldron shop Bakura had sighted earlier and they went inside. While Mrs. Weasley went to get him a pewter cauldron, Bakura wandered over to where the scales were on the other side of the room. While he looked for some brass ones as described on his list, he caught sight of some sparkling, solid-gold ones that made him think of Shadi's Millennium Scales. He smiled despite himself.

Mrs. Weasley and Bakura left the shop soon after with their purchases, and headed over to the Apothecary next. On the way there, Bakura stopped in front of a shop displaying several different kinds of wizard games like those he'd read about in Flourish and Blotts. Although much of their display was obscured by the purple posters hanging all around the alley, one game in particular caught his eye.

_'Gobstones?' _he thought in interest. Yugi and the others would love those. Oh, what he wouldn't give to have some of his own money right now.

While Bakura had stopped to stare longingly into the window at the gold, marble-like stones, Mrs. Weasley had started tugging on his sleeve. "Come along, Dear..." she urged.

It took a great effort to tear his eye away and continue on, but his mind stayed on the new game a bit longer.

"What do we have to get next, Mrs. Weasley?" Bakura asked after a while.

"Just your wand – Oh no..." They had stopped in front of shabby, small shop advertising itself with peeling, gold letters that read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

They stood there for a few moments before Bakura finally commented, "Ano, it looks deserted..."

"That's because it _is _deserted," Mrs. Weasley said crossly. "I'd completely forgotten about Ollivander being gone."

"So... will I not be able to get a wand then?" Bakura asked. When he'd first noticed it on his list, he couldn't help but picture a plastic stick with a very fake-looking aluminum star scotch-taped at one end. Of course, he'd been looking forward to seeing what a wand _really_ looked like and could only hope they weren't as embarrassing as he imagined, especially considering what Jonouchi's and Honda's probable reactions would be.

Bakura felt a pang in his chest as he thought of his two friends.

"Oh no, don't worry about that," Mrs. Weasley said, smiling slightly as she turned to Bakura. "There are other wand providers, it's just that the others don't really compare with Ollivanders."

Mrs. Weasley led him down several more streets, all filled with various sizes and shapes of people, all of which moved a bit closer to the others in their party as Bakura and Mrs. Weasley passed. Bakura tried to tell himself that they were probably just paranoid and did that every time someone went by, but he could not help but notice that all their attention seemed to be directed toward him. Their eyes roved over his silk black scarf and long uncombed hair, while Bakura stared determinedly at the ground, his throat suddenly burning.

"Here we are," said Mrs. Weasley, none the wiser.

"O-Oh yes," said Bakura, as he returned to reality, his voice coming out strangely choked. He stared vaguely at the elaborately-painted shop, although most of this, along with their shop name and information of what they were actually selling was largely obscured by the quickly-growing-obnoxious purple posters.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a look of concern, but did not comment as they entered.

Once inside, Bakura temporarily forgot his plight as he found himself staring at a library-like room with shelves upon shelves lined with small, long-ish rectangular boxes instead of books. The room was clearly bigger than it had appeared from the outside.

While Bakura was busy gazing around, a slightly harassed-looking woman approached them from among the shelves, giving both of the newcomers the evil eye.

"Well," she said. "I suppose you're a couple more customers in need of a wand who are willing to settle for the _second best_, isn't that right? Too bad for you Ollivanders went on vacation, huh?"

"Ano..." Bakura said, blinking and not sure what to say in the face of such hostility, but thankfully Mrs. Weasley came to the rescue.

"Be that as it may," she said crisply, "he needs a wand."

The wand maker frowned. "Yes, I suppose he does," she said resentfully. She turned around and began to walk away, saying allowed as she went, "Follow me, then."

So Bakura moved into step right behind her as did Mrs. Weasley. They were close enough to catch about every other word of the woman's incessant mutterings, something about 'that old coot Ollivander,' and 'so much for hard work and deserved respect.'

They reached the 'book case' at the very end of the row, the one farthest from the door and the woman stopped. When she turned around, she was smiling hospitably, all charm. If Bakura had to guess, he would say her business side had won out over her injured pride.

"Did you bring his old wand with you?" she asked sweetly.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed, not looking the least bit impressed by the new persona, but seemed to decide being polite would be the better route. She shook her head and only said simply, "This one will be his first from what I've been told."

The wand maker's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He's a bit old, don't you think?" she said, but Mrs. Weasley's face was stony. The wand maker shrugged. "But never mind, that's not important I suppose. Would you please hold out your wand arm then for me?"

Bakura had barely opened his mouth to ask what she meant by his 'wand arm' when she quickly added, "Your dominant one, I mean."

Bakura nodded slightly and held out his right arm.

She started to measure him, not limiting herself to his 'wand' arm either. She measured around his head, his wrist to elbow, and various other seemingly unnecessary places that succeeded in making Bakura feel thoroughly uncomfortable. Although, he somehow managed to feel even more uneasy when she ceased measuring him herself and moved off to start pulling boxes off the many shelves.

This left Bakura to watch the tape measure, floating in midair, moving back and forth of its own accord all around him. Bakura was glad when she finally came back and snatched the tape measure out of the air. She pocketed it, saying, "Yes, I think that's enough."

She opened one of the narrow boxes and took out a wooden stick.

"Is that a wand?" Bakura asked before he could help himself.

"Yes," she said vaguely. "Now, we have to find the right one. Here. Dragon heartstring and birch, eight inches."

She extended the stick to Bakura and he took it. He looked back at her expectantly and she raised her eyebrows.

"You're supposed to wave it," she said.

"Oh, yes," said Bakura, flushing slightly. He waved it back and forth a little and decided that it was very pretty, but didn't seem particularly useful.

"No, I don't think that one's right," she said taking the wand back and, after placing it back in its box, set it on something that looked suspiciously like a book cart that Bakura did not remember being there before.

"All right, how about ash and unicorn hair? Nine and a half inches."

Bakura took this one too and waved it a little. But, just like before, she soon took it away. While she was setting this wand aside and getting another one, Bakura found himself asking, "Ano, if I may ask, what do you mean by 'unicorn hair' and 'dragon heartstring'?" Bakura had the idea that they were like categories, sort of like the different species you could make your characters in Monster World, but he imagined there may be more to it than that.

"Cottonwood and phoenix feather. Thirteen inches," she said as she shoved yet another wand at the white-haired teen. Then, in answer to his question, she said, "Those refer to the magical cores of the wands of course. Those cores are what make wands _wands_ and not just sticks of wood."

"_Real _dragon heartstrings are in these wands?" Bakura asked as he waved the wand she'd given him around.

"Or phoenix feathers or unicorn hairs," she said as she snatched the wand away and made to get another. "But no two wands are alike. A wand has to be your _exact _match or it may not work properly for you. Here."

So Bakura tried one wand after another, all of which did absolutely nothing and were deemed as 'not the right one.' Bakura was starting to get a little desperate. Perhaps he would have to try every single one of them? It would certainly be just his luck, especially if there really was only one wand in this whole shop that suited him. Or maybe none of them _would_ suit him, if he was truly without magic of his own...

"Hmm, you're a difficult one," she said. "But how about this one? It hasn't suited anyone else, but sometimes the wands that are hard to find compatible owners for respond most to owners that have trouble finding a compatible wand." She held the wand box carefully between her manicured hand and drew the wand from the box.

"Basswood and phoenix feather," she said. "Twelve and a half inches."

Bakura took the wand and held it, waiting for something to happen.

After a moment, the woman spoke up again, sounding disappointed, "Ah well, that one is a bit unusual I guess."

Bakura felt something stir in the back of his mind. He'd never quite managed to accustom himself to the spirit's ever lingering presence and the occasional leak-through of emotions, but at least now he'd come to recognize them for what they were.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt his control over his body slip and his arm jerked upward, raising the wand above his head. Then the arm brought it violently downward, slashing through the air like a sword. Black and gold sparks ignited from the tip, leaving trails of electric fire dancing in the air.

"That _is_ the right one!" said the wand maker excitedly, satisfied. "I knew it."

Bakura breathed out a breath of awe and, forgetting the odd behavior of the spirit for a moment, marveled at the pretty wand, pleased with the sort of warm connection he'd felt with it. He smiled shyly as he glanced over at the wand maker. Again, his curiosity got the best of him and he asked, "What did you say made this wand unusual again?"

"I didn't," she said, taking the wand back from Bakura and sticking it back it its box. "Some just consider it a little exotic is all. Got it's core from a Bennu bird – that is, an Egyptian phoenix."

"Egyptian?" Bakura asked, barely able to believe it. But then, he supposed it was only fitting.

_/Heh, yes... Fitting indeed./_

Bakura stiffened slightly, but hoped the two women didn't notice.

"Oh, yes," said the wand maker absently as she led them back to the counter near the entrance. "Now if we could only sell our _other_ Bennu bird wand..." Distracted, she wrapped the box in brown paper and handed it to Bakura in exchange for seven gold Galleons from Mrs. Weasley. The two of them left the shop with the wand maker's vague farewells at their backs.

"_**It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."**_

Replies to reviews:

erosgirl: Or Filch and his now biased secrecy sensor. XD Anyways, thanks for asking! I like answering questions(though I know there will probably be enough plotholes in this story that I won't be able to answer all of them; the timing and schedule of the classes being the biggest source ):[

Computerfreak101: Hagrid plus Blue Eyes would equal a very unhappy golden trio. But I bet Hagrid would lose interest if he found out they were only holograms. (So what about Slyfer? Or Ra? Those are usually played in the middle of Shadow Game, so they'd be real... HMM...)

Naw... I'd only make them shun Bakura if I really liked them. LOL Sorry, I was kind of unclear, I know. What I meant to say was, it isn't going to turn into Bakura becoming the new member of their three-some. But don't worry; the scene on the carriage isn't going to go completely to waste.

Psycho Dragon Lover: Thanks for reviewing! And I'm really glad you're liking the story. n.n I really love seeing new faces.

anonymous: Aww, thanks. n.n No, I'm not gonna make this one Ryou/Ishizu(you were reading my bio, weren't you? lol). If I'm going to have any non-canon pairings, I would usually put the fic in the romance genre.

shady gurl: Hey, thanks. I know there are just too many, but at least it gives you something to choose from...

Please read and review!

(original version last edited 10/8/2006, new version edited 4/30/2011)


	10. Herbology

This chapter has the first real class period. Yay. I have a couple of warnings to people, though. One, the classes aren't set up like they are in the books(at all), since I didn't know exactly how the the classes are set up in the books. In this, there are two class periods per day; one after breakfast, then one after lunch. That, of course, would make each class about three hours long, but just know it bothers me too... -'.'-;

The second thing are the OCs- (reviewers: NOOO! NO, DON'T DO IT!-) yes, the OCs. :F Let me say that they are not Gary Stues or Mary Sues (at least, I hope not UUU), since they aren't going to play a huge role or help save the day or anything like that – they're only named and given personalities for the purpose of better description (actually, out of all the ones I made, I think I only actually use about two). I wanted to avoid making them entirely, but thanks to my whimsical idea to put Bakura in first year, I'm stuck. But in any case, I'll bet that they annoy me more than you. -'.-

**-10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10 -10**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 10: Herbology

Mrs. Weasley led Bakura back through the brick wall and they went back into the Leaky Cauldron. They wasted no time in going back over to the fireplace Bakura had first arrived through and Mrs. Weasley handed him some Floo Powder for his trip back.

After several long minutes of the rather unpleasant ride, Bakura, covered in soot, stumbled out of the fireplace and into the underground, rough stone-walled common room.

Mrs. Weasley had told him that he ought to take his things back to his dormitory and then go to his second class after lunch. Lunch was going on right now and Bakura wished that he could go down and get something to eat as he hadn't had anything since early that morning, but he knew he didn't dare. He needed this time to find where his next class was going to be in this huge, maze-like castle.

Bakura, balancing all his packages with great care, went into his dormitory, though it took some serious thinking to remember which one he'd come out of that morning, and he was a little relieved to see that his dorm room was as empty as the common room had been.

He located his bed and dragged the trunk that Mrs. Weasley had told him would be provided for him out from underneath it. He stuffed all his packages rather hastily into his trunk along with the trench coat making its odd jangling sound, which upon examination proved to be coming from the pockets which were filled with the gold wizard coins called Galleons he'd seen at Gringotts. Then he changed from the dirty, baggy robes he was wearing into the handsome, clean ones he'd bought from Madame Malkins just that morning.

They were a perfect fit, and, although he was hungry, he still managed to feel good as he examined the fine, black material. He was also pleased to find a small bag of amenities in the trunk and he quickly brushed out his hair and brushed his teeth.

Refreshed, Bakura soon remembered the task at hand though and scrounged around in the pockets of his old robes until he found his class schedule and list of supplies. He had Herbology next apparently.

Bakura was a little relieved at this. The class was located in the greenhouses outside the castle, so it shouldn't be too hard to find.

Bakura grabbed the bag that had been sitting next to his trunk and slid his dragon hide gloves along with his copy of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore inside. After he'd made sure that the textbook wouldn't crush his brand new quill or smash his ink bottles, he set off, going through the common room and stepping carefully through what he presumed to be the exit that led out into the school.

As soon as he was all the way into the stone dungeon hall however, the way to the common room immediately close behind him, leaving no indication that there had ever even been a door there. Bakura winced, and immediately knew there wouldn't be any hope of his finding his way back here. And he wasn't totally sure he could even get back into the room again if he tried. He sighed deeply. Well, nothing to be done about that. The most he could do was head out for the greenhouses behind the school and hope everything worked itself out.

It seemed to take him an age just to find his way to the next floor, but once he'd done that, he didn't have too much trouble locating the greenhouses. They were hard to miss.

Bakura found the hallways and grounds fairly empty, so he assumed that everyone must still be at lunch. Not that he minded, it was good to be a little early.

Intent on taking a moment to relax, he went and sat in the grass right outside one of the greenhouses. The landscape had a gentle slope and the grass was a beautiful shade of green, despite the fact that in terms of the weather they were nearing the end of summer, fall already on the verge of setting in. Perhaps even that was another result of magic. A soft breeze was blowing, making the grass ripple like water. Bakura could see what looked like a forest a ways away and a small hut right near the edge –

"Hey, what're yeh doin' there?" said a voice.

Bakura stood up so quickly he nearly overbalanced, but managed to stay on his feet. He turned to face the newcomer, and he was so shocked this time he really did fall over, toppling over backward.

"Huh? Not causin' trouble, are yeh?"

Bakura tilted his head backward until he could see the fact of the enormous being standing before him. He was laying on his elbows before a real-life giant.

He swallowed. Reading about giants and watching them on television didn't have quite do the experience justice. This must be how Yugi and the others had felt facing Zorc as little miniature figurines. The way every part of the man seemed somehow larger than life, proportionally larger than any part of anyone he'd ever met.

Bakura continued to gaze upward, his eyes wide. He forced himself into a sitting position, though it didn't make much difference. He doubted standing up would've have helped either.

As he registered what the man had asked him, feeling faint he could only muster enough strength to gesture wordlessly at the greenhouses.

"Herbology next, eh?" the man guessed, somehow able to interpret he quiet new student's silent message. "But in't that a first year class? Oh, wait a mo'..." He gave Bakura a rather pensive look through a mess of wild black hair matted with dirt and Bakura found himself wishing he could be anywhere but here.

"Yer tha' new student, righ'? Dumbledore tol' me about yeh."

Bakura meant to say something, but the words got lost somewhere on the way to his throat as he stared up at the giant. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded feebly.

"Yeah," the giant said. "Well, yeh can call me Hagrid. I teach Care o' Magical Creatures, so I'll be seein' yeh on Thursday, then."

With that, Hagrid headed off whistling down the sloping lawn in the direction of the hut near the forest.

Bakura stared after the giant, transfixed, until the huge form had reached the hut. As soon as he was out of sight, Bakura let himself collapse back against the ground. He let out a huge sigh of relief.

_'Could have been worse.'_

Still, he had a feeling this was going to be a long year...

He had only just barely begun to get his heart rate down when he lifted his head only to catch sight of several figures making their way over. He sighed slightly and climbed shakily to his feet. He recognized some of them as the boys who'd been in his dormitory that morning.

He clenched his chest with one hand, trying to slow the sudden resurgence of the pounding of his heart and felt the familiar metallic ring with it's five dangling spirals. Oddly enough, as he pulled his bag off the ground and slung it over his shoulder, he realized he found the object strangely comforting.

"Oh, it's _you_," said an aggressive sandy-blond, as though Bakura was an unpleasant piece of sludge to be wiped off the bottom of his shoe. "So you're not only _rooming_ with first years, but you're taking classes with us too. What a loser, I've never heard of wizard being so far behind. Let me guess: you're muggle-born, right?"

"Olseth, be careful," warned one of the others in a whisper, and Bakura noticed the others looking at this 'Olseth' in what looked like mingled horror and admiration. Apparently these boys for whatever reason saw Bakura as some sort of monster who'd out anyone who so much as dared to say his name without permission. So now he had just been promoted to sludge monster. Great.

"Ah, hello..." said Bakura, forcing a tentative smile despite this. He couldn't believe that his classmates were to be these children, but he would rather be on good terms with them, if possible. The Olseth kid's treatment of him was how he was used to being treated, at least before he became such good friends with Yugi and the others, but he couldn't help but be bothered by the looks on the others' faces. After all, since he'd first received the Millennium Ring, many had had a legitimate reason to be afraid of him. "Is – Is class starting soon?" he asked, trying to make his voice as friendly as possibly.

The children glanced at one another apprehensively and Olseth opened his mouth to reply, probably intending to fire off another insult if the look on his face was any indications, but didn't get a chance to as just then a short woman with flyaway hair and the dirtiest fingernails Bakura had ever seen came up the path toward them, calling out to them as she came.

"All right, everyone! We'll be starting in Greenhouse one – yes, that would be the one over there – "

Olseth closed his mouth again and headed off with the other students toward the greenhouse the Professor had indicated looking denied.

Bakura tried to ignore the suspicious glances the students kept shooting at him as he wandered with his classmates, trying to meld into the crowd so as to be unnoticeable as he was used to doing at Domino High whenever he was not with Yugi and the others, which had gotten to be pretty rare these days.

An endeavor which proved to be rather hopeless, as he was almost a foot taller than any of the others.

Once inside the greenhouse, however, there were shelves upon shelves of the oddest of plants that seemed to distract the students' attention away from Bakura anyway, and they all took to gazing around them in awe.

"All right!" barked the Professor. "Attention up here, please! I'm Professor Sprout and I'll be your Herbology teacher from now on. Now, for this class we'll be using a variety of herbs and fungi..."

Bakura found the many different species of plants and their uses in many magical substances fascinating, but words couldn't express how glad he was when the bell signaling the end of the class finally rang all the same.

He just couldn't endure the looks from the other students any longer. He soon found that the only ones who didn't cringe when he passed or try to avoid his eyes were the sandy-haired boy from earlier, Armando Olseth, who bragged about having been named after one of the Hogwarts headmasters and wasn't discouraged in the least from directing threats and countless rude remarks at Hogwarts' oldest first year by the age and height difference, and another one of the boys from Bakura's dormitory, Enoch Astrava, who Bakura wouldn't have been at all surprised to find out, with his haughty attitude and apparent perceived superiority in every sophisticated word that came out of his mouth, to be related to Seto Kaiba somehow.

Needless to say, neither of these two were too keen on becoming Bakura's friend in the near future, so it looked as though he was going to be spending a lot of time along in the upcoming months he spent at this school, if the spirit decided to keep him here that long. But speaking of the spirit, Bakura had to admit to himself rationally that perhaps it was better this way. No friends, no friends to lose.

After Herbology, Bakura found himself about ready to faint from hunger, but since dinner wouldn't be served for a couple more hours, he had to find some way to pass the time.

Despite their attitude towards him, Bakura was glad to follow Olseth and his other dorm mates back to the common room, relieved to have that particular little worry solved.

"Snake's venom," said Olseth confidently and they entered through the hidden door.

Bakura headed straight to the dormitories, collapsing onto his bed once he got inside. He sighed deeply and rolled over onto his stomach. How he would love to be back in Domino right now, where normal people saw him as normal and his friends understood that he wasn't normal, but did not condemn him for it.

Bakura got up and pulled his trunk out from under his bed. Crouching on the floor, he glanced over the different covers of his textbooks. Bakura picked up one titled _A Light in the Dark_ in interest. _'This must be the one for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class,' _Bakura thought as he ran his fingers over the cover.

He settled back onto the bed and opened his textbook. Bakura inhaled the fresh scent of a new book and he couldn't help but feel a little comforted. He'd always found that smell invigorating.

He looked over the table of contents, searching at random for something of interest. The chapters were labeled things like "Protecting Yourself Against Inferi" and_ "_Avoiding Dementors and Their Kisses." Bakura didn't find these all that helpful, since he didn't know what an 'Inferi' or a 'Dementor' was.

Bakura glanced over at the page number column and then slowly turned the pages until he reached the chapter about Inferi. He read:

_An Inferus (plural form: Inferi) is the term used for a dead body bewitched to obey the will of a witch or wizard._

Bakura hand twitched, and he slowly closed the book. Somehow, reading about zombies hadn't been exactly what he'd had in mind when he'd been looking for something to pass the time.

Bakura's stomach grumbled feebly again and he sighed.

He put the book back in the trunk and, after a moment, stood up. He wandered over to the door, thinking he might do a little exploring of this magical castle. It was an unbelievably mysterious and fantastic setting, he would love to see more of it. Though he would have to be extremely careful not to get himself lost.

As he stepped into the common room, he saw that most of his classmates from Herbology were still there.

Bakura hesitated, suddenly less sure of the wisdom of leaving the common room than he had been a moment before. He knew how to get back in of course now, he just had to speak a certain password, but the entrance was so well-hidden, he might not be able to tell where it was along the hallway. Maybe he ought to concentrate on looking for distinguishing characteristics outside.

Bakura stood in the entranceway to the room, shifting uneasily for a moment, until a group of people came up from the dormitories and were none too happy to find the white-haired first year blocking their path.

"Move!" snarled one with pale skin and bleach blond hair, and he shoved Bakura roughly to the side, nearly knocking him to the ground. The teen's two friends, who reminded Bakura strongly of the Giant Orcs he kept in his deck, laughed heartily as they went on past.

Suddenly bleach-blond who'd shoved him frowned at Bakura over his shoulder as he got a better look at him. "Hey, you're that guy from the train," he said. He smirked slightly at the others as they all turned to look. "Yeah, you were the _stowaway_ without a ticket."

_'Well, that is the definition of stowaway,'_ thought Bakura absently, wondering if his ability to respond properly to impending threats had been overloaded for the day and that was where this inappropriate moment of humor was coming from. He hadn't the slightest clue what was going on around this place or what he had or hadn't done, so having absolutely no memory of any sort of train, let alone meeting this boy failed to faze him. Still, he decided it was better not to say anything.

The boy's sneer suddenly turned pensive though. "You know what, I don't recognize you at all," he said. "You definitely _look_ like a sixth year, or at least a fifth year, but I've never seen you." His eyes narrowed. "Wait... Are you _really_ a Slytherin?"

They were gaining an audience now.

"Well," Bakura began uneasily, distracted by all the stares and the boy's snide disposition. "I guess you could say... I'm starting a bit late." He was tempted to ask what a 'Slytherin' was, but on second thought decided it might be best if he let it slide.

The boy raised his eyebrows in temporary surprise, then snorted loudly. "A _bit late_? You've got to be kidding. You mean you haven't learned_ anything_ yet?"

"Ano..." Bakura started, a little afraid of the teen's reaction if he was forced to confirm his suspicions.

But the bleach-blond took this as an affirmative answer anyway and sneered in both amusement and disgust. "I don't believe it. You must be a filthy mudblood too then. How the heck did you manage to get get into this House anyway?"

Once again, Bakura chose to hold his peace. When ignorant, he found it was best to keep one's mouth firmly closed. Bakura had a feeling he would be utilizing this strategy a lot in the near future.

"Whatever," the teen said after a moment. Though his friends were still grinning broadly and chuckling in amusement, he at least seemed to have already grown bored with picking on Bakura. For the moment.

As they were leaving, the teen gave Bakura one last glance over his shoulder and added, smirking, "By the way, nice hair cut."

The others snickered again and one girl who had already been in the common room even let out a shriek of laughter. Bakura even heard someone call out, "Nice one, Malfoy. Put that little girl in his place."

Bakura mentally sighed. Yes, he was definitely not going to be making many friends at this school. It seemed like the nicest people he'd met today had been a middle-aged irritable redhead and a giant. Not exactly encouraging. But perhaps all magical people were a bit temperamental and condescending, if the spirit's general attitude was any clue.

Unable to keep a slight color rising in his pale face and not even completely sure what all he was being made fun of for, Bakura exited the common room as fast as he could, eager to get away from the unfriendly group of students.

"_**Between light and darkness, the gateway to chaos is opened."**_

Replies to reviews (everybody's still with me, right?-):

cgflower: Really? Aw, thanks :'D I've read a lot of ygo/hp crossovers too, but my favorites usually update about once every six months. ;O;

Computerfreak101: Yeah, basically the same thing. The most important thing for right now is that it's an Egyptian wand, though. Dunno whether it's being a brother wand will come into the story or not at this point. ':-/ (probably, though) No, the second wand doesn't belong to Bakura(but when I look at it, that might make more sense than what I've got in mind UUU).

Please r and r! :D

(original version last edited 1/10/2006)


	11. Exploration and Transfiguration

So... I decided to use my four-day weekend after all...

**-11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11 -11**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 11: Exploration and Transfiguration

As Bakura left the common room by way of the hidden door, he simply stood outside for a little while, taking a moment to breathe deeply. He looked all around him, studying the place around where he knew the secret door to be and the paintings on the wall directly across from the empty wall until he was absolutely certain he'd be able to find his way back, then set off to explore the castle.

At first, all of Bakura's attention was consumed with the hundreds of moving paintings hanging all over the school's walls, but when he caught sight of the semi-transparent figures roaming the castle's halls, his interest soon shifted to them. Well, after he'd gotten over his terror that is.

There were hundreds of these ghosts, all reminding Bakura irresistibly of the duel monster cards he kept in his deck. However, these were for the most part decidedly more friendly, he decided. One graciously pointed him in the direction of the Transfiguration room, helping him complete his quest to find out where all his classes were in advance. Jonouchi probably would have called him a 'nerd,' but Bakura's poor heart couldn't take much more excitement. Living life on the edge suited others more than it did him.

However, this romantic idea of ghosts of Hogwarts being nice entities was to be short-lived.

After he'd found where the transfiguration room, he made an idle decision to see how many floors this school had before he looked for his other classrooms. But as he was walking down one of the many long corridors on the topmost floor, he was unexpectedly assaulted by one of the more... _lively_ ghosts.

"And what would a student be doing lurking around up so far away from the watchful eyes of the nice teachers?" the ghost asked in a voice of mock concern. "Not causing mischief Peevsie hopes?" Although by the tone of his voice it couldn't have been more apparent what his hopes actually were and what they weren't.

"I'm just exploring," said Bakura slowly, attempting to edge away from the leering ghost.

"And after all the Headmaster said about how students mustn't do anything to endanger their safety..." said the ghost, in a new voice, this one mockingly mournful, ignoring Bakura. "But Peevsie still knows how he can help!" The ghost resumed his thoroughly disconcerting leer.

Bakura didn't speak. He'd figured out that ghosts couldn't affect real life, but he still found this one in particular rather disturbing and wished he could be someplace else. He would have liked to simply leave, but that would be a little rude and probably just spurned the ghost to make even more accusations about naughty students, so he contented himself with simply edging away, hoping the ghost would get the message.

"Oh yes, Peevsie exists only to help the students! And he knows _just_ the thing to help you, the very thing," the ghost cackled, then turned surprisingly somber. "Know how?" he whispered, looking the unfortunate student right in the eye.

Bakura could only shake his head in reply.

"Your hair," the ghost whispered.

"My _what_?" Bakura blurted before he could help himself.

"Your HAIR!" the ghost shrieked gleefully. "Peevsie sees that it's been dyed something dreadful and Peevsie will dye it back for you!"

Bakura was caught completely off-guard as something very hard shattered against his head. His head spun and he was disoriented a moment. He found himself thinking vaguely, _'Oh, I'm going to feel that in the morning' _beforehe snapped back to reality and found the ghost cackling as he dropped more and more of what Bakura soon saw to be full ink bottles on him, shattering all around his feet.

Bakura stood there still stunned for maybe half a second before instinct took over and he covered his head with his arms, which got very sticky in the process as they made contact with his hair, which the ghost had succeeded in dying at least partially a metallic black, and took off running down the hall, the ghost cackling behind him.

It took several long hallways and many random turns in four-way intersections to escape the deranged ghost. Only when Bakura was absolutely certain that he'd lost his pursuer did he finally stop, leaning against a wall and breathing hard. He sank to the floor, whimpering slightly as he reached up to gently finger the spot on his head where the ink bottle had struck.

It immediately smarted at the touch, but that was not what made his thoughts and vision blur from panic when he felt the sticky liquid substance there. He jerked his hand back down to examine his hand which he was sure must be covered in blood, but breathed a sigh of relief when he found the tips of his fingers, as he should have expected, a metallic black, not crimson.

He sat there for a little while longer, deciding to wait for the throbbing in his skull to abate a little before going back downstairs. Just as he was on the verge of mentally preparing himself to finally get up and go back to the common room he saw someone familiar crossing the hall. The familiar someone did not happen to see Bakura, apparently in too much of hurry to turn to look around him much.

It took Bakura a moment to place the this particular person, perhaps because of the blow to the head as it was unusual for him to so soon forget the face of one of his antagonizers.

Malfoy, with his bleach-blond hair and stuffy attitude took off down the hall, taking a sharp turn and disappearing from sight.

Bakura climbed gingerly to his feet, staring at the place the boy had gone in confusion. Strange that he'd be up in a place like this by himself. From Bakura's experience, this teen's type generally preferred to be flanked a two or three flunkies to boss around. Bakura had been exploring since the place was new to him, and he didn't have many – or any – friends, so it made sense for him. But this guy...

Bakura was so lost in thought, he didn't notice when yet another figure came up to stand right behind him. The man stood there for a few moments watching Bakura intently, before he spoke with his usual soft, but somehow evermore intimidating tones.

"Good evening," he said.

Bakura jumped and whipped around to come face to face with none other than Professor Snape. He gasped in shock, taking an involuntary step back, then straightened and composed himself. Well, composed himself as best he could with a nasty headache-turning-migraine and his hair full of gobs of quickly-drying black ink.

"May I ask what a student – a student wandering seven floors above his common room and unaccompanied, I might add – is doing?" Professor Snape asked in a voice that could have almost passed as polite except for the way surveying Bakura suspiciously from behind two curtains of greasy, black hair.

"I was... exploring the castle, Sir," said Bakura staring anywhere but at the Professor's face, knowing that this would only make him seem guilty of whatever crime that he might be accused of, but too intimidated to do anything else.

"I see," the Professor said softy. "Well, I suggest you choose to explore elsewhere in the future, perhaps somewhere nearer the common room, where you have the protection of numbers. These are times of great danger, where anyone or anything may be you're downfall – one must always be on their guard. "

Bakura nodded without looking up. "Yes, Sir."

Without another word, Professor Snape turned and strode away, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Bakura shook his head slightly. He was relieved he hadn't gotten into trouble. After all, if he had been accused of something, he wouldn't have even known whether he could deny it or not. He hadn't known there was any danger in wandering about the castle, but after that ghost, he could see what the Professor meant. But he couldn't help but wonder what Professor Snape would have said if he'd caught sight of that Malfoy person up here as well.

The next day, Bakura was the first one in his dormitory to awaken. He was grateful for this, as he was quickly becoming wary of Armando Olseth, who took every opportunity to make fun of anyone in his immediate vicinity not included in his own group of friends and sometimes not even they were safe. Needless to say, in Bakura's case opportunities were plentiful, and Bakura was not part of the group. Plus, Bakura wasn't much in the mood to deal with it with the headache he was sporting.

He got dressed and went down to breakfast. He was once again impressed by the golden cups and plates, and the veritable gourmet dishes as he had been the evening before, when he'd finally made it to the great hall for supper. He hadn't managed to find any of his classrooms besides Transfiguration, but that was just fine as it was Transfiguration he had next. Maybe he would have time to find the others later that day.

After he had eaten all he wanted, he went back upstairs to grab his things for class. When he reached the dorm, he found that his roommates were gone, still downstairs getting breakfast. He was relieved not to have to deal with them, but winced slightly when he realized that being totally friendless was likely contributing to this speed with which he was doing things.

Bakura walked leisurely downstairs and was pleased when he found the Transfiguration room fairly quickly, made easy by the way he had located it already the day before. Yes, it was good to be prepared.

When he entered the room, he found that none of the other students had arrived yet. Only a woman with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun was sitting at the desk at the front of the room. He swallowed, then took a careful step inside. When the Professor didn't look up, he crept over to the desk closest to the door and sat down as quietly as he could. It was only when he started to pull out his copy of _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ that the teacher finally lifted her attention to the lone first year.

"Mr. Bakura," she addressed him.

Bakura, who had not seen her when she'd looked up was so startled that he dropped his book back in his bag with a loud _clunk_.

"Yes – Yes, Professor?" Bakura stammered. By the sharp lines of her face and mouth, he immediately sensed that this was someone who wasn't to be crossed. If she was anything like Professor Snape... Bakura almost fainted on the spot at the thought.

At his shaking voice and obviously fearful expression, she allowed her own to soften slightly. "There's no need to be afraid. I don't bite, Mr. Bakura."

Bakura nodded, but did not speak.

"Come here," she said. "I want to see something."

Bakura got to his feet, nearly tripping over his bag in the process, and walked up to the desk, his stomach churning.

"Take out your wand," she said.

Bakura flushed and hastily went back to his bag, rummaging around in it, aware of the Professor's stern gaze on his back, until he found the long wooden stick. When he returned to the desk, the Professor wore a disapproving look.

"You should have your wand on you at all times. Your wand is your life."

Bakura nodded quickly, his flush draining from his face leaving his skin even paler than usual. "Yes, Professor."

"Good. Now I want you to do this." She raised her wand, holding like she would have a torch with the pointed end held aloft.

Bakura imitated the Professor, then looked back at her expectantly.

"Now say _Lumos,_" she said and as soon as the last word was out of her mouth the tip of her wand ignited in a bright light.

Bakura blinked in awe. Then, trying to swallow his nerves, he held his wand a little higher and said tentatively, "_Lumos_."

They stood there for several seconds in silence, staring at his wand, waiting. After a moment, Bakura called again, this time with a little more force, "_Lumos!_"

Still, nothing happened.

Bakura stared at his wand. Of course nothing had happened, one needed magic to make it work. Magic of their _own__._ Not magic from an item he wore around his neck. The spirit had forced his way into this place, but he, Ryou Bakura, did not belong here. It was better this way – he would rather go back to Domino anyway, if he could find his way back there. Back to Yugi, Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu, the other Yugi –

For some reason, he did not feel as comforted by this thought as he knew he should have been. Instead, all he could see in this moment was the end of an adventure, all because he was so inadequate, because he was not special in the least. It was always that way, even when he was with Yugi and the others.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled, suddenly finding himself blinking back tears as he stared down at the desk in front of him. Tears, he thought, over something so stupid. How pathetic could a person be?

"Don't worry about it Mr. Bakura," said the Professor brusquely, giving him a strange look. "That was just a simple test to see how much magic you had. You _are _a late-starter, so I was curious to see whether your magic had developed farther than the average first year's would have."

Bakura looked up at her. "Nani – what?" he asked blankly.

"I gave you a beginner-level spell to perform, but since it didn't work, I assume that means your magic is at the level of the average eleven-year-old wizard. That would explain if you haven't had too many odd occurrences growing up and your magic hasn't been going out of control for you in recent years, but other than that, I wouldn't let it bother you. It's not as though any of your other fellow first years could perform that spell either."

Bakura nodded, feeling the weight in his chest lighten a little, though not much. Maybe he would be able to learn the spell. But if he was right and he didn't have any magic of his own, then it would matter how much he learned. He would always be bottom of the class. But perhaps there was still a chance he had magic of his own, if this professor at least didn't think his inability to cast the spell or whatever it was that was supposed to happen meant he had no magic...

His thoughts were cut off as at that moment that his dorm and classmates decided to enter the room, followed closely by a group of other students Bakura didn't recognize, but looked to be just about the same age as the other 'first years.'

Bakura wordlessly returned to the desk he had taken at the back of the room and pulled his Transfiguration book out of his bag.

As soon as everyone was seated, the Professor introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. After that, she immediately launched into a dire warning about how dangerous a subject Transfiguration was and that if any students chose not to treat it as such she would not hesitate to kick them out of the class permanently.

By this time, Bakura was paying rapt attention to Professor McGonagall's words, always being one to take things of this nature seriously even if those around him didn't. He took careful notes along with the other students and he found them fascinating. The technical, systematic way in which this teacher seemed to approach this subject of magic was unexpected, but engaging. For the first bit he had a little trouble keeping up and understanding her complicated explanations of things, but he caught on quickly and found the concepts not so hard to understand after all.

Once she was done with a lecture, they moved on to the practical application of the subject, and were all given a match and told to transfigure it into a needle. Bakura was apprehensive at this part, but was relieved when he found that no one else succeeded in changing their matches into needles, though several of the students managed to light theirs afire.

By the end of class, Bakura was in a much better mood, even with Olseth's snide comments about how Bakura could have stood to come a bit later to class for once to wash his hair, noticing the small black clots of ink which stood out starkly against Bakura's white locks, remnants of yesterday's adventure which he had been unable to remove completely.

At least he hadn't been as much of a failure as he'd feared. For one, he'd had no trouble with the notes which everyone else seemed to have been struggling with, if the grumbling he overheard after class was any indication. He hadn't even been the only one not to be able to transfigure his match. Everyone had a ton of homework, but Bakura planned on doing his that night. It actually sounded kind of interesting, and it wasn't as though he had much of a social life to get in the way.

After lunch, Bakura headed to History of Magic. He left early to give himself time to get to the room, but was happy to discover he didn't have much trouble finding it. His spirit, though not exactly soaring, was lifted after the refreshing meal and in light of the fact that he was going to one of the subjects he'd been looking forward to most. After all, this was a school of magic, so perhaps they would be teaching something about the Millennium Items and the mysteries that surrounded them.

However, once class started he quickly realized that it wasn't going to be quite what he thought, but then, it appeared that was going to be the way of things at this school.

The class was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns, who had a voice that reminded Bakura of an old documentary film with an announcer that wasn't getting paid very much. The monotonic drone did not make for the best learning environment and Bakura caught himself about to nod off several times.

Bakura shook his head and focused instead on devising ways of entertaining himself with his note-taking, like labeling key words with various symbols. He drew a key for himself up in the corner and labeled words like 'goblin' with a tiny duel monster card, and 'war' with a circle with a triangle in the center and five lines hanging from it that vaguely resembled the Millennium Ring. Though he wasn't normally a much of a doodler in regular school, he soon found himself continually adding to the key until there were almost as many symbols as actual words in his notes.

When the bell to signal the end of the class finally rang, everyone leaped up from their desks and raced for the door as if their lives depended on it, Bakura included.

Bakura quickly found his way back to the common room through the maze-like underground. Even after only a couple of days, he was definitely getting better at finding his way around the huge castle. The familiarity gave him a certain sense of power, and he smiled at the thought.

Just as he'd entered through the hidden doorway however, someone blew passed him and out into the corridor, accompanied by two very young-looking girls. Bakura glanced back and recognized Malfoy yet again. He and the two girls took off down the hallway and disappeared around a turn.

Bakura raised his eyebrows in curiosity. Perhaps the teen was going to go back to the seventh floor again. Bakura shrugged slightly to himself. Not that it was any of his business, but still, he silently wished Malfoy the luck not to run into Professor Snape up there.

"_**Security can be a trap. You haven't realized... The more you protect yourself, the more you cut off your escape."**_

Replies to reviews:

Saffron-Starlight: It just wouldn't be natural if they didn't. XD

Catherine: Thanks :D Yeah, though I know the problem of simply plugging Bakura's name into scenes in the book can happen if I'm not careful...

ARG! I just realized I've been forgetting to do my chapterly thank yous to all my reviewers D: (somebody smack me) I stopped around chapter eight, so...

Thank you Computerfreak101, Earthpaw, Anei Aikouka, erosgirl, Psycho Dragon Lover, anonymous, shady gurl, cgflower, Saffron-Starlight, and Catherine for reviewing!

Okay, so maybe that last thing isn't SUPER important to you guys, but it is to me and since I started out doing it... well...

Anyway, please r and r!

(first vers. last edited 1/15/2006)


	12. The Omen of Death

And so I've gone about two weeks without thinking about this fic at all... but I've started to get kinda depressed by not working on it, I think. So I'm gonna try and get back into working on it everyday, so hopefully things will get updated faster. ;O;

...I keep thinking I could have just told you to go read the divination chapter in Prisoner of Azkaban; this chapter is so... unoriginal somehow. ;O;

**-12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12 -12**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Note: Insector Haga is Weevil Underwood's Japanese name.

Chapter 12: The Omen of Death

After breakfast, Bakura headed off toward Divination, his first class of the day. As he headed toward the North Tower, he couldn't help but feel an edge of nervousness in the pit of his stomach, though he had to admit that seemed to be his usual state of being lately. Even so, he couldn't help but feel that reading the future sounded extraordinarily difficult, even more so than the other kinds of magic. He could only hope that the others found it hard as well.

It took Bakura so incredibly long to find it that even though he had left breakfast long before any of his roommates, when he reached the top of the tightly spiraling staircase he found there was already a crowd assembled. He just known he'd regret it if he didn't use the previous day to find his classes ahead of time, but he'd been afraid to run into Snape again.

It took Bakura a moment to realize that, not only did he not recognize any of the students standing outside where the Divination room should be, but they appeared to be a lot older than his normal classmates. Some turned to stare at him, while others turned there backs to him and whispered to one another. He bit his lip. Perhaps he had not come to the right place after all.

He stood there nervously, shifting from one foot to another, hoping against hope that one or two of his dorm mates would come along before long – probably the first time he had wished for this since coming to this place.

He checked his schedule again, then looked all around him, sure that this had to be the place. So there wasn't much he could do until the teacher arrived. Perhaps she would explain things then if there was some kind of mistake.

Instead, he glanced around once more, wondering where they were supposed to go in. He didn't see any immediately apparent doors that led off this landing, but he soon noticed some of the students pointing at the ceiling and he craned his neck to look up. There, he saw what looked like a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque reading 'Sibyll Trelawney, Divination teacher.'

Yes, Sibyll Trelawney had definitely been the name on his schedule. _'The plot thickens,'_ he thought a bit wryly. He shot another look around at the unfamiliar students. Some of them looked as nervous as he felt and, perhaps it was his imagination, but Bakura thought they had a different overall look from his dorm mates. Less hostile in general, maybe.

He shook his head. Wishful thinking, that was all that was.

Just as his eye was returning to the curious plaque, the trapdoor it was on opened and a glimmering silver ladder dropped down from it.

The students all glanced at one another uncertainly, before one of the braver ones stepped forward and began climbing upward. The others soon followed.

Bakura hung back, only going up once everyone else in the crowd had taken their turn.

When he, the very last remaining member of the class to reach the top, finally poked his head into the room, he discovered what he considered the oddest-looking place for a classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it almost looked more like an attic than a classroom, except for the many small, circular tables cramped in so tightly together it made Bakura feel almost claustrophobic, though he'd never been susceptible before now.

He just stood there, feeling out of place along with the other students, in the dim, red light that seemed to originate from the lamps which were draped in dark red scarves. The windows were all shut, so there wasn't any other source of light.

"Welcome," said a voice from the shadows and everyone turned to look. "I'm glad to see everyone arrived here safely – as of course I knew you would."

Bakura saw a spindly woman with a glittering shawl hanging around her thin shoulders. Perhaps it was the overly-large glasses magnifying her eyes, but Bakura thought she rather resembled one of the cards from Haga's deck.

"Please sit down, my children," she said and everyone soon did so. Bakura sat down at a table with a couple of girls and a boy, all of whom were giving him a funny look. Bakura tried valiantly to ignore them.

"Welcome to Divination," said the Professor. "I'm Professor Trelawney – Yes, what is it, dear?" She turned her head to focus her eyes which appeared enormous behind her strange spectacles on Bakura, who had put one shaking hand into the air. She was looking at him with a sort of irritated deadpan that clearly said, _"You are completely ruining the atmosphere I'm trying to set, Boy."_

"I – I was just wondering..." He faltered as he felt the gazes of the other students on him and he could not stop the intense embarrassment creeping in the form of blazing heat over his face. He glanced around at his fellow students again, as though hoping to see one of his usual classmates suddenly appear among them. Wishing for them twice in one day, now there was something to remember.

Professor Trelawney spared him the necessity of stumbling over an entire explanation however and said, "Ah, yes. You don't need to worry, dear. The headmaster – " Her lips tightened a little as she said the word, as though she had tasted something sour – "has informed me of your situation."

Bakura nodded, his face still burning, before sinking as low into his chair as he could manage. He was not entirely satisfied with this answer, but she had been expecting him, so that must mean he was where he was supposed to be. Good thing, because he didn't think he could work up enough courage to speak again for awhile. Most likely the spirit had been given all the details about these things he was expected to know, but hadn't bothered to tell him and was laughing it up in his soul room right now.

Professor Trelawney then proceeded to give them the standard speech of what to expect in the class and explained just how difficult a subject it was, regularly punctuated with pronouncements and warnings of what would happen in the future. Everything she predicted seemed to be so unpleasant that Bakura kept expecting her to say something to him. However, the expected predictions of endless bad luck for him never came and he let out a breath of relief when she finished her speech, telling them to grab a teacup from the shelf and to divide into pairs.

Bakura was a little surprised when someone asked him almost immediately if he'd like to pair with them. Ordinarily he would have expected to be the very last one with a partner, either the odd one out in an out-numbered classroom, or the subject of a group of three friends' vehement 'No, _you_ go with him.' But the girl at his table positively beamed at him.

"I'm Orla – Orla Quirke," she said, smiling almost shyly.

"My name's Ryou Bakura," said Bakura, who shifted uncomfortably as her smile broadened.

"Ryou? That's a nice name," she said. "That sounds Asian. Is it?"

"Um, yes," said Bakura. "Japanese."

"That's so cool," she said. "Have you ever been there?"

He couldn't deny it was a little nice to be faced with something other than the endless hostility he was forced to endure when he was with his roommates, but even so he a little relieved when they were finished preparing their tea after following Professor Trelawney's list of complicated instructions on how to prepare it properly and they had to drink it, which distracted Orla from their conversation temporarily. He wasn't too good at small talk, unless it somehow concerned gaming or occult culture. Plus, he didn't think it would be a good idea to give away too much about his situation. He didn't know how suspicious it would look for a resident of Japan to be attending a school of magic in England.

When they had finish drinking their tea, and only odd patterns of brown lumps remained, Bakura switched cups with 'Orla.' They both pulled out their copies of their textbooks for the class.

"Okay," said Bakura squinting into Orla's cup. There were supposed to be shapes in there that would convey something about the other person's future. But closer inspection only told Bakura that all he saw was that he didn't see much of anything that resembled... anything. Unless he counted that one thing that he supposed sort of looked like a Valentine's day heart.

He glanced up at Orla. She was smiling at him expectantly. Even with the Millennium Eye, Bakura certainly didn't know how to use it or even if he could and he couldn't read minds. Yet, though he was probably wrong, he thought he saw a trace of the look the girls he'd first met when he'd arrived at Domino High all those months ago in her expression. As pretty as she was, Bakura had always been one to be more interested in playing Monster World than in girls, though if he'd ever admitted it, Jonouchi and Honda would have probably called him a moron and the thought made Bakura almost smile. Not to mention, though she was certainly older than Bakura's usual classmates, she couldn't have been much older than thirteen or so.

He was probably overreacting and simply mistaking friendliness for something else, but even so, he decided that it might be better not to mention the heart.

"So, you have something that looks a little like a spider." A spider that had only one body section and three stubs for legs. "That means you'll have an unlucky day sometime," Bakura said as he consulted his textbook, trying his best to sound authoritative. "And there you have an egg..." If one could consider a roughly elliptical shape with a lump on one side and a bulge on the bottom an egg. "That means you'll go through a time where you are very, uh – " Bakura raised his eyebrows incredulously as he glanced from the book to the tea cup and back again, wondering if the author was serious or if they had slipped this reading in as a joke. "The egg means that for a while emotionally you be very... fragile."

"That's amazing," said Orla. "I'm sure your right. I guess lately I've been sort of..."

"Don't think too much of it," he said quickly, a bit horrified that she might actually take his awful attempts at diving seriously. "I may not have interpreted the shapes quite..." He shrugged, biting his lip. After a short silence in which he studied dredges in the cup closely as though it were the most fascinating sight he'd ever seen he said, "Anyway, that's pretty much it." Well, that had certainly been an accomplishment. The most-botched that reading of the future in the history of the class. Well, so much for his supposed knowledge about the occult.

"Okay," said Orla, and she blushed, which Bakura did not consider a good sign. "Thank you," she said, then began, Well, you've got a sort of boomerang-looking thing... Oh, doesn't seem to be in here, though..." She turned the pages of her textbook, frowning slightly in concentration and looking as though she really wanted to prove herself.

"Well anyway, um, this other part looks like a cloud." Orla quickly rifled through the pages of her book again. While she was busy, Professor Trelawney swept over to their table.

"Are you doing all right, my dears?" Professor Trelawney asked, voice low with an almost mystical quality to it.

"Well, Professor," said Orla, "I'm not sure what this thing here is – I thought it was a boomerang, but it's not listed in our textbooks – "

Professor Trelawney had no more leaned over to gaze into Bakura's cup, than she had jumped violently backwards, her hand on her heart, her eyes shut tightly.

"What – What is it, Professor?" Orla asked, her voice shaking in fright.

Professor Trelawney turned her huge eyes upon Bakura, where she gave him a stare containing the utmost pity.

The other students were all staring at them now, shooting puzzled glances at one another.

"Professor?" Bakura asked softly and Professor Trelawney opened her mouth, despite trembling lips.

"My dear... you have an _augury_."

"A _what_?" somebody called out, confused.

As bad a job as Bakura had done on his tea prediction, he did know a lot about omens and signs and, before Bakura could stop himself he blurted, "Don't those foretell rain?"

Trelawney gave him another pitying look. "My dear, they foretell death I'm afraid. _Death_. And in the near future too."

Bakura stared back, but could not stop a bead of sweat breaking out on his temple and rolling down his cheek.

Orla, along with all the other students looked terrified.

"He's going to die?" Orla asked in a hushed voice.

Bakura didn't say anything, not taking his eyes from Trelawney's face. He wanted to not care. He wanted to be able to say to himself that he had known all along it was a distinct possibility, being possessed by possibly the greatest evil the world had ever known. That he did not need a fortune teller to tell him the risk, the danger he had always known he was in. But he could not will away the fear that now consumed him at the words.

"I think that that will be enough for today," said Professor Trelawney faintly. "Put away your things and until we meet again – " Her eyes swept around the room until they fell on Bakura, as though she was silently telling him that this speech may not not apply to him as he may meet his end before the next class anyway – "I wish you good fortune."

Bakura decided not to eat lunch, as he found that he wasn't all that hungry after Divination. He went to his dormitory instead and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, a lethargy having taken over so completely that his whole being felt like a lead weight. Only his thoughts seemed to not want to stop.

Death. He hadn't thought about it too much, not since he'd lost his little sister all those years ago, and his interest in the occult especially in speaking with the dead had begun. But the idea of dying – once it crept into his thoughts, it was hard to dislodge.

He shook his head slightly. He shouldn't let it bother him. What was death anyway? Just the end of suffering, of loneliness, of fear. Maybe his death would even somehow aid in the removal of the evil that he was the medium for. He should have always known this anyway...

He closed his eye, thinking of Yugi, Jonouchi, Honda, Anzu...

Burning liquid formed in his single eye. He couldn't die, not so soon. He missed them, he had to see them again first. And they would miss him. Wouldn't they?

_/Heh heh... Depressed, are we?-/_

Bakura's eye snapped open and he felt the hot bead slide silently down over the side of his face. He didn't reply, but his whole body tensed in apprehension.

_/You don't need to get like that. I don't bite after all,-/_ said the voice, then it laughed again.

_/What – What do you want?-/_ Bakura demanded finally, knowing the strength of his order was somewhat undermined by the tremor in his voice.

_/Just wanted to see how you're doing is all,-/_ said the spirit lightly. _/So that woman predicted your death, did she?-/_

Once again, Bakura chose not to grace the spirit with an answer.

_/Heh, well she doesn't know about the Millennium Items, does she? Doesn't know our fates can't be divined. Does she, Vessel?-/_

Bakura blinked, stunned. Of course the spirit was probably right, the Millennium Items were so strange and mysterious that their presence alone would probably gum up any kind of attempt to see the future surrounding anyone in proximity to one. But that was not what had taken him so by surprise. _/What are you up to?-/ _Bakura asked suspiciously. Maybe he was misreading the situation, but it sounded suspiciously to him like the spirit had just gone out of his way to cheer him up. And Bakura would have bet Kaiba would donate all his money to charity before that happened.

_/Don't want anything to distract you from your studies,-/_ the spirit said. /_Didn't I say I wanted you to learn? I'm just clearing the path for you./_

Bakura sighed. That answer was hardly satisfying, but really, he wasn't sure why he would have expected the spirit to start spilling all his secrets to him now. Perhaps that really was all there was to it.

Bakura decided not to say anything more to the voice. He sat up and, though he hated himself for it, realized he did indeed feel better now, the lethargy gone. He twisted himself around and pushed himself up out of bed.

After leaving the common room, it took hardly any time at all to find the Potions classroom, which was also located in the dungeons, the one level just below ground level.

He had given himself plenty of time to get there, so as usual he found himself arriving early. He wondered if he would be having this class with the same people he'd had divination with. He certainly hoped not as he had not much appreciated their pitying glances after Professor Trelawney had foretold his death. He squirmed uncomfortably.

He was a little relieved to see Olseth and his other usual classmates making there way down the hallway. However, his relief soon faded at one look at the pronounced sneer on Olseth's face, and he suddenly found himself wishing instead that he could have a nice class time filled with the pitying and distinctly non-hostile Orla and the others.

Bakura was glad when Professor Slughorn finally came out and opened the door to allow the students to enter the classroom.

As Bakura entered the dungeon with the other students, he was met with many different interesting smells and aromas, and the room was filled with a mist alive with color. Bakura saw the source of the smells and mist and leaned over to look at the contents of the various cauldrons as he passed them. One had a sort of musty smell that reminded Bakura strongly of the Kame Game Shop, but at the same time also held the smell of the wooden figurines he used for his favorite game, Monster World of course. The wonderful smell was somehow able to put him in a remarkeably good mood for himself, and was only too happy to find a desk and sit down.

Soon after the Potion's lesson began, Bakura quickly decided that this was his favorite class so far. Potions-making had turned out to be not that much different from cooking – and Bakura had always been rather fond of cooking. The work more interesting than History of Magic, and the Professor, Professor Slughorn seemed a nice enough man, and definitely far less intimidating than the likes of Professor McGonagall, though she had turned out to be nicer deep down than she appeared, and less spooky than Professor Trelawney.

Bakura found the work so simple that he was surprised when, at the end of class, Professor Slughorn pronounced him as the one with the best Sleeping Draught. This was the only time Professor Slughorn acknowledged him and he seemed mightily surprised at Bakura's success; other than that he seemed content on pretending Bakura didn't exist, which suited Bakura just fine.

Bakura left the dungeon, feeling content and pleased with himself for once. Not only because Potions had been his first successful class, but because over the course of the class he'd been able to relax enough to finally realize what day it was. Today was September first – and so that meant tomorrow was...

By all rights, he didn't have a real reason to be excited for it. After all, no one else here would even know what day it was anyway, so it wasn't like anyone would acknowledge it or care at all or anything.

But still, it wasn't every day one turned seventeen, was it?

"_**I need this host in the end, to gain the power of darkness."**_

Replies to reviews (first two are from last chapter, since I know chapter eleven didn't show up for awhile on the site for some reason, so technically you reviewed after I updated... or something weird like that happened UUU):

Kimpatsu no Hoseki: Thanks n.n I'll try.

Computerfreak101: It should be soon... soon! ;O; Really. But I did manage to fit a little bit of Yami Bakura in this chapter. Oh, and I wasn't pleased either. (why do the heroes always have to win when they're about half as hot?) Actually, I don't know what annoyed me more, the fact that he lost, or the fact that we found out all his power came from that slab all the people of Kul Elna made. Darn... I thought all this was Yami Bakura's own hatred, but they really toned down his independent power. But... he DID come back at least. (he just never dies, does he? :D)

cgflower: Oh, yes. It wouldn't be a proper hp/ygo crossover if they didn't :D

Wormapple: Oh, thank you so much. n.n So this is the first Yugioh/Harry Potter crossover you've ever read? Sigh... that takes me back to my first hp/ygo crossover. It was soo great. So great in fact that it inspired me to actually go back and read the Harry Potter books for background information. LOL

Kitroku: Awww, thanks :'D

Saffron-Starlight: Oh, sorry about that. In the story, I always refer to Yami Bakura as 'the spirit' or some variation of that(the tomb robber, the demon, etc.). Ryou I always refer to as 'Bakura'. Yeh, I decided for this fic that Bakura would be Ryou(like in the anime), not Yami Bakura. Yay! Thanks, I'm glad to have you. :D

Takhisis: Oh, that's a quote from Yami Bakura(half the quotes are, actually XD). When he was running around with Tristan in Pegasus' dungeon during the Duelist Kingdom arc, they're being chased by guards. So Yami Bakura summons his man-eater bug and while it's attacking the guards, Yami Bakura makes the conversational comment to Tristan, "Present day humans are so fun to terrorize, don't you think?" XD aww... I love that scene D:

erosgirl: oh, that's right! D: ...well, it'll have to come out eventually even if nobody notices ;D (that really would be a terrible thing D:)

Whoa, I got so many reviews last chapter! I'm so happy. :'D Anyway, please read and review!

(first vers. last edited 1/31/2006)


	13. Two Intimidating Professors

**-13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13 -13**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 13: Two Intimidating Professors

The next day, Bakura got up, dressed in his still relatively new robes, and took even more time to comb through the tangled mess that was his hair than usual. Today was going to be a good day.

Of course, he had Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts for the first time the day and he was absolutely terrified of the two Professors in question, but that didn't change the fact that today was September second. Even if nobody else knew or cared, Bakura was determined to have a good day on his birthday at the very least. It wasn't as though he was asking for much, as a good day in Bakura's view of the world consisted of not having a bad day. No ghosts dumping ink on his head, no teachers telling him he was slated to die in the near future, and bullying from his eleven-year-old roommates kept to a minimum would be good enough for him.

But of course, in Bakura's world, that was asking for a lot.

He went downstairs and, after eating a hearty breakfast he went down to the Care of Magical Creatures class, which happened to be right next to the hut he'd noticed when he'd had Herbology, on the edge of the forest.

No one else had arrived yet of course, so he decided to allow himself a little relaxation. He threw down his bag and laid down next to it, gazing up at the clear blue sky above. He sighed dreamily, breathing in the fresh air and allowing his eye to drift partially closed. He had almost forgotten how beautiful this place was.

His moment of relaxation was brought to an end as, out of the very corner of his eye he caught sight of movement. Movement of something very large.

Startled, Bakura blinked and quickly lifted himself up onto his elbow, spinning his head around to get a look at whatever it was, hoping it was just the professor arriving to start his class.

It wasn't. There, not ten feet from him, was a big, taloned creature of some kind. Unless Bakura was hallucinating, he thought it appeared to be a griffin. A real life griffin. So magic wasn't just in the people learning it, there were real mystical creatures here too.

_'I suppose that would be why the class is called Care of Magical Creatures,'_ Bakura thought to himself, thinking that perhaps spending so much time with the spirit was causing him to develop a sarcastic side.

That was all well and fine, but it occurred him that a griffin was most likely a dangerous animal. The curved sharp eagles beak and predatory eyes were frightening and even though Bakura noticed its hindquarters were that of a horse and not a lion, he did not feel reassured in the least.

The creature turned its head to look straight at him, and Bakura held very still his mouth dry, feeling like an unfortunate passerby in a neighborhood where he realized the owner had forgotten to tie up their giant dog. Either the owner came back and told the dog what to do, or he made a wrong move and got mauled.

"Oh, a student here already eh?" said a cheerful voice right behind him.

Bakrua sincerely hoped that was the giant of a professor, but he didn't dare take his eye off the Griffin-like creature. Judging from the huge shadow that fell across him though, Bakura thought it was a safe bet.

"See yeh already met Buck – er, Witherwings," said the professor.

Bakura got slowly to his feet, hoping not to startle the beast. He moved his eye away from the creature's flaming orange eyes to the beaming face of Professor Hagrid. "Ah, yes..." he said uncertainly.

"Well, g'morning to yeh!" he said, still beaming and Bakura decided that, despite his size, maybe this teacher wasn't as scary as he'd imagined.

However, just then the griffin or whatever it was snorted and bucked its head and Bakura's eye shot back to it.

"Hey, calm down there," said the professor, waving at it. "Did'ya look him in the eye? Shoulda told yeh, not supposed ter do that."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," said Bakura timidly, letting his eye fall to the ground, then turning it slowly back to Professor Hagrid.

"Don' worry about it," said the Professor amicably. "No harm done, he's just a bit irritated is all, but he'll forget about that once I give him his fish. Won't you Bu – Witherwings?" He pulled something old and smelly out of the large overcoat he was wearing and tossed it to the mythical creature and it indeed hopped for the fish like a dog going after a piece of beef, scrawny white-haired boy looking him in the eye a distant memory.

"Is that... Is that what we're learning about today?" Bakura asked in a low voice, hoping not to draw the creature's attention again as he glanced fearfully back at it again, ready to look away should it turn toward him again.

"Naw," said the Professor. "B – Witherwings is just a friend o' mine. "But mind – I gotta a great lesson in store." He grinned happily.

Bakura forced himself to return the smile, but still felt a bit awkward. "Oh, I'm sure it will be..."

"Hey, since yer here a bit early, I'll give yeh a quick peak at 'em!"

Bakura was not sure this was a good idea, but he did not seem to have much choice in the matter as the Professor was already heading around the edge of the hut.

Bakura followed him reluctantly, taking great care to take the path furtherest from 'Witherwings' and his sharp beak and talons.

As Bakura came around the hut, he saw the Professor with what looked like several large glass boxes.

"Take a look," whispered Professor Hagrid.

Bakura leaned over the edge of one and saw three silvery-green lizards. They appeared harmless, but then, so did a lot of things that could bite you and rip out your insides. He looked up at the Professor expectantly. "What are they?" he asked.

"Mokes," said the Professor, grinning. "Aren' they beau'iful?"

Bakura glanced back down at the lizards. They were sort of pretty in their own way, but 'beautiful' might be overdoing it. "Oh, yes," Bakura agreed hesitantly. "Very beautiful." Even though Bakura was sure he did not sound entirely truthful, this seemed enough to satisfy the Professor.

"Yeah, o' course... But I won' tell yeh about their 'special power' jus' yet, though. Don' want ter spoil it."

Bakura looked up at the Professor in alarm, wondering if he was having his worst fears confirmed. _'Whatever it is, please let it not be something that will result in pain, death, or being permanently handicapped.'_

"Oh, looks like yeh won' have ter wait much longer."

Bakura followed the Professor's gaze to see a crowd of people approaching. Bakura saw right away that, like with Divination, these people weren't his roommates, but the students he'd seen in Divination, plus some other students who were slightly older than his usual classmates that he didn't recognize.

The look on Orla's and some of her friends' faces which could be described as almost rapturous unnerved Bakura and he knew his returning smile probably looked extremely strained.

"Ryou! Are you in this class then?" Orla asked, beaming.

"Ah..." said Bakura, stiffening, his discomfort causing his mind to go temporarily blank.

"Yep," said Professor Hagrid. "Just showin' him today's lesson; I think yer all gonna love these."

Bakura was relieved to see that the other students looked a little disconcerted as well.

"Gather 'round, everybody!" called the Professor as the rest of the students arrived. "For yer first day of class, I thought we'd do summat in'eresting."

Everyone exchanged nervous glances again. Evidently, Bakura wasn't the only one apprehensive of Professor Hagrid's idea of 'interesting.'

"Anyone know what this is?" the Professor asked, holding up one of the silvery-green lizards in his bare hands, which Bakura could only hope meant it wasn't dangerous. Nobody said anything and instead glanced around at everyone else around them.

Finally, when it seemed that no one else knew, Bakura timidly raised his hand.

The Professor turned to beam upon him. "Yeah – Bakura, was it? Yeh know?" He gave Bakura a wink as encouragement.

"I think you told me it was called a moke, Professor. Right?"

To Bakura's great discomfort, he saw that Orla and her friends gazing at him in admiration as though they had never witnessed anything so amazing. As though remembering the name of something he'd just been told for ten minutes before was an unheard of accomplishment.

"Tha's right," said the Professor, his beetle-black eyes twinkling. "Five points ter Slytherin. For showin' up early to class and listenin'."

Bakura raised his eyebrows, temporarily forgetting his embarrassment. There that word was again – he would have to find out what 'Slytherin' was. And he wasn't even sure he should bother trying to figure out what that points business was about.

Orla and some of the others gave him curious looks that Bakura didn't quite understand.

"And does anyone know what makes a moke differen' from jus' a normal lizard?" Hagrid went on.

Nobody said anything for a moment. Finally one girl piped up, "Well, I know my mum has a moke-skin purse. Is that the same thing?"

"Eleanor Branstone, innit? And does her purse do anythin' special?" the Professor asked, grinning.

"I think she said it's supposed to shrink when a stranger approaches," she answered. "Not sure if it actually does though... I thought she might be making it up."

Professor Hagrid beamed. "Nah, yer mother's right. And can yeh guess what a moke lizard does when it senses danger?"

"It shrinks?" she guessed, surprised.

"Right! Take five points fer Hufflepuff."

Eleanor smiled tentatively, looking pleased.

"Now," said the Professor. "Yer mum's lucky ter have a moke-skin purse. They're very valuable. Thief can' steal what he can' find, see?"

The spirit of the Ring scoffed from within his soul room and Bakura coughed nervously, concentrating on keeping his focus up on Hagrid and the mokes.

They were fascinating creatures really, all the more so as they weren't a well-known mythical creature like griffins and dragons, if they were known at all. He found himself wondering if there was a duel monster out there somewhere that resembled these lizards. _'Yugi would probably know if he was here,' _thought Bakura wistfully.

So they spent the rest of the class allowing the lizards to get accustomed to the 'strangers' as they separated into groups, each taking a lizard in a glass box, all assigned to take notes on each lizard's behavior. They had to be very careful though; if the lizards got skittish they would shrink and finding them again before the end of class would probably be a lost cause.

Some of the students, including Bakura, got a chance to touch the mokes. They were called up a few at a time to hold some of the less Hagrid would supervise them as they did so. Bakura would have been satisfied by simply watching them moving around inside the glass habitats, but he could not deny that he liked the feel of their smooth, gracefully interlocking scales as Hagrid explained just how unique the skin of a moke was.

While Bakura and the rest of his group were up at the front, a couple of the new classmates that had not been in Bakura's Divination class came up to Hagrid, looking desolate as they explained how a member of their group had opened the top of the lid of their habitat just for a second to get a better look when the lizard disappeared from sight.

Hagrid told them it had probably just shrunk out of sight, but he'd go take a look.

Hagrid gingerly took the moke Bakura had been holding back from him and set it back in its home, replacing the lid and assuring them he would be back in just a moment so that they others could get their turn.

Hands on his knees, Bakura bent to get a closer look at the lizard skittering around the leaves and sandy setup. It ignored him and went about its business of working at delicately devouring the little bits of meat and plant life Hagrid had deposited inside, even licking its tiny lizard hands as though it were a cat.

"They're cute aren't they?" said Orla conversationally, but her tone was almost distant, as though she was thinking about something else.

The two of them were alone as the other member of their group had already wandered away to talk to join in conversation with another group, though students still shot curious glances his way, which he chose to ignore.

"Yes very," Bakura agreed, almost enthusiastically without taking his eye off the lizard. "I could watch them all day."

Orla was silent, which seemed unusual for her. In fact, after asking him if he'd like to be in her group, she had been rather quiet all class, which he gathered was unusual for her. He wondered if he had said something wrong, but was afraid to ask her in case he was just imagining things.

She blurted suddenly. "I didn't know you were in Slytherin. I mean, I knew you weren't in Ravenclaw, and you probably weren't in our year. But other than that..." She trailed off awkwardly.

Bakura hesitated, but decided he had to ask. As suspicious as it would look not to know something apparently every else knew and something that the spirit had no doubt already been informed of, he needed to have all the information. He wasn't all that good at pretending to be someone in the know.

He turned to look at her. "This may seem like a stupid question," he began. "But sometimes my memory is a bit... hit and miss. Could you remind me what being in Slytherin or being _a_ Slytherin is exactly? Or being in Ravenclaw?"

Orla's eyebrows shot up. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, apparently not sure which question to ask first. Finally she settled on, "Weren't you sorted into a House in your first year?"

Bakura shrugged. "I think this _is _my first year, as far as I've been told. I was put in the dorm room with first years. What's sorting?"

Orla half-laughed, evidently thinking it was a joke, then stopped herself as she looked at Bakura's puzzled expression. "But – " she began. "You're too old to be a first year." She shook her head. "Sorting is what determines what House you're put into. Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff. You go to classes and share a common room with all the people in your same House as you."

Bakura was curious now. "You mean there are other common rooms besides the one I go to in the dungeons?"

"Yes," said Orla, then looked at him in mild shock. "The Slytherin common room is in the dungeons? But you shouldn't tell me that, the common room locations are supposed to be secret for the most part from the members of the other houses."

"Oh," said Bakura, touching a guilty finger to his lip. "Sorry, I didn't know that."

Orla stared at him in amazement. "You really don't know anything about the Houses or how it works or anything. I mean, I think you'd have to be muggle-born not to know some of this stuff. Are you?"

Bakura tried to think back. "I think so," he said. "As far as I know, neither of my parents had magic powers, though I never really knew my mother that well so I can't say for sure. Anyway, that's what they all assume anyway."

Orla just looked at him in disbelief. "Muggle-born," she repeated. "Bizarre." She looked at him at him then and said quickly, "Oh, don't think I have a problem with it or anything. Muggle-born witches and wizards are still witches and wizards you know, that's what my parents always say. I just can't believe that a muggle-born was put in Slytherin."

She suddenly smiled at him. "You know, you don't seem much like a Slytherin."

Bakura sighed. "I know, someone in my common room told me as much. I don't think he knew how I wound up in 'Slytherin' either. And I'll probably just disappoint them even more."

"Actually, that was a compliment," she said, grinning slightly. "Most Slytherins are sorted into that house because they're the type to just strut around the castle, thinking they're better than everyone else and stepping on any helpless kids who get in their way. I can't stand most of them, but you seem really nice."

So, what House one was sorted into was determined by personality, and the Slytherin House was for the arrogant and selfish who acted as though they existed on a higher plane of existence than the rest of the average masses in general.

_/Well, that solves that mystery,-/_ Bakura noted with a mental wink, though he would bet that his other self wasn't listening anyway.

Bakura couldn't help but smile back. "I think maybe my kid roommates see me as one of those helpless kids in the way."

It was Orla's turn to sigh. "It must be hard for you, Ryou. Being as nice as you are, and being muggle-born, then to be locked up and forced to sleep in the same part of the castle as those stuck up little..."

Bakura was grateful for her sympathy, but somehow hearing her talk about it made it seem like it wasn't so bad after all. He shrugged, smiling, and there a bit of impishness in the expression. "It's not a big deal, I might as well keep things in perspective, he said. "After all, I probably won't make it to the end of the year anyway, seeing as how an augury's going to get me."

Orla did not seem to find this very funny.

By the end of class, Bakura once again found himself in a good mood. Overall, he decided it was a reasonably good start to his birthday.

After lunch, Bakura headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. But the moment Bakura stepped into the classroom, his cheer was almost instantly derailed.

Curtains had been drawn over the windows to prevent sunlight from entering and pictures of people with mutilated body parts and clearly in pain adorned the dark walls, giving the place a decidedly ominous atmosphere that did not allow for cheerfulness of any sort.

Bakura took a seat near the back of the room, continuing to glance around at the images. He was reminded of the time the spirit of the Ring had impaled his hand on a tower in his own Monster World diorama and, shuddering at the memory, he quickly turned his attention elsewhere.

Bakura saw that most of his other classmates were either already in their seats or just now coming into the room. Bakura had decided not to come so early as he usually did, since he really had had no desire to sit alone in a room with the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, or the 'Dark Arts' teacher as the spirit was so found of calling him, but it seemed that that motion was pointless as the Professor had not even arrived yet.

Bakura glanced around at the students who didn't share a dorm with him and found that he didn't recognize a single one of them.

_'Slytherins.'_

That was what his own group was called. That's what he was. He was glad to know it, even if he could be certain that he had not be 'sorted' into a House based on his own personality. These other students he didn't know must be from another House, a House different from the groups they shared the other classes they had attended with.

There was definitely a certain tension in the air that had not been present in their other classes, and Bakura noticed his fellow Slytherins glaring daggers at the other students, and they in turn returning with equal hostility.

However, they were distracted as the second the bell rang and, on cue, Professor Snape swept into the room, his long, black robes billowing out behind him. Everyone went deathly quiet. It seemed that, as with Professor Hagrid, it wasn't only Bakura that found the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor intimidating.

"In your seats," he said, his black eyes glinting as they swept the classroom. Even though his voice was barely above a whisper, the students all seemed to tense at this, and those who had not reached their seats yet obeyed the command promptly and everyone else sat up a little straighter. This wasn't someone to mess with.

Bakura swallowed as he focused his utmost attention on the front of the room as well.

"This is your first year at Hogwarts," said the Professor, in the same soft voice, "and therefore, your first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As you know, Defense Against the Dark Arts becomes ever more important with the rise of the Dark Lord – one who has no qualms using any and all of the Dark Arts that I'm going to attempt to teach you how to defend against. Though I don't doubt that most of you will lack the skills and intelligence required to make these defenses any use to you, the rest will likely use these defenses later on as this war becomes more... _involved_."

Bakura's gaze drifted down to his desk for a moment and he bit his lip. It was probably his imagination, but when the dark-haired professor had said 'lack the skills and intelligence required' it was almost as though Professor Snape had been talking directly to him. That would be just his luck.

And to Bakura's dismay, soon after class started he realized just how true that thought was. Professor Snape had taught them how to do a simple 'lighting' spell (which, as it turned out, was the_ lumos _Professor McGonagall had tested him with earlier). At first, no one had been able to perform the charm at all, but by the end of class it seemed almost everyone could at least get red sparks to come shooting out of tips of their wands at will. Everyone except Bakura, that was.

Bakura could not get his wand to so much as let off so much as a single spark. It didn't help that Professor Snape was on the prowl, sweeping about the classroom only to suddenly descend on one student or another to ridicule them and their efforts. Bakura kept expecting the Professor to come over and say something to him, but the rest of the class time came and went without so much as a single insult, even though Bakura was sure he caught the Professor sending condescending glances his way several times.

He'd managed to escape this time but, insults or no insults, Bakura wasn't looking forward to the next Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Not only was he an absolute failure at the spell, but he'd been given a ton of homework. An essay on the most basic defensive spells one could learn and it had to be at least a foot in length, which Bakura found as an odd way to measure one's writing.

However, he had actually gotten off lucky as many of the students had gotten an extra assignment to do on stunning charms. Apparently those students had done an especially poor job on their spells, but Bakura didn't understand why he hadn't been among those as he had most certainly done the worst of anyone.

Still, he wasn't about to complain.

"_**Mercy is for the weak, like you my friend."**_

Replies to reviews:

Wormapple: Thanks :D and you do better than I do (I never check my e-mail XD).

Computerfreak101: I know exactly what you mean. I always root for Yami Bakura... ;O;' Well, false hope's better than no hope in my opinion XD (LOL, Ryou would never admit that he has a girlfriend; he probably wouldn't even admit to having boatloads of fangirls ):D ...aw, I want a boat ;O; XD)

AnimeLoverAngel: Awww, thank you so much! :D Yeh, Yami Bakura's always being unnecessarily mean to Ryou. Maybe that's why I love him so much ;O;'

Sirithiliel: Thanks, and I'll be writing more. n.n

cgflower: Awww, thank you. I'm so glad :D No, the other kids aren't Slytherins. They're actually Ravenclaw (just don't ask me to tell you the specifics on how the timing of the schedule works XD).

Master Psychic: YES, I'm glad. n.n Btw, ever played the pokemon color games? The psychics are the coolest. XD I'm always a psychic... (if not, just ignore me ;D)

Saffron-Starlight: Yeh. In this I decided not to make Bakura so into the occult though since I didn't see any actual instances in the manga (yet) where he seemed that into it, except for his Millennium Item fascination. But hey, where'd you find that out? I've read that in several places, but I can't find any canon on it, or anything that has to do with his sister for that matter (except that one scene when Ryou meets Yami Bakura and he was writing a letter to her). Do you know where it is exactly? ;O;' I'm hoping it's still coming up in Battle City, but I want to know exactly how long I have to wait.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Please r and r and tell me what you think. n.n

(first vers. last edited 9/6/2006)


	14. Getting What Others Paid For

Sorry this took so long! And it's soo short too. ;O;' I hope to get chapter fifteen out a little faster...

**-14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -14**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 14: Getting What Others Paid For

"Now remember everyone, the standard wand movements are 'swish and flick.' See, that? Please try again."

Bakura held his wand aloft as he attempted to imitate the tiny Professor. This class was apparently about continuing on perfecting techniques that had been introduced to them last time. This turned out to be a stroke of good luck for Bakura, who had missed the first charms class to get his supplies.

"Swish and flick," Bakura repeated to himself and he heard someone snicker several desks away. Instinctively, Bakura glanced up.

Olseth grinned broadly back and nudged the Slytherin girl sitting next to him. He whispered something, smirking all the while as he did a mock imitation of Bakura's attempt at wand work.

Bakura quickly turned his attention back to his wand, a slight frown creasing his forehead.

He wondered how long Olseth was going to keep using him as his object of ridicule. If he were the spirit he might shrug it off, saying something like, _'Small mind are easily entertained.'_ But it ate at Bakura, drained him the way he felt so self-conscious about everything he did. If Olseth was like many of the bullies Bakura had had to deal with in his time, he would not soon tire. But perhaps, speaking of the spirit of the Ring, if the spirit decided that Olseth was impairing Bakura's ability to learn...

Bakura stopped, appalled with his own thoughts. What a horrendous thing to even think. What was he becoming?

Bakura was glad when charms finally ended and he could go to lunch. Since it was Friday he didn't have an afternoon class to go to, so he decided to work on his homework out by the lake, eager to apply himself to something that would distract him from the distasteful thoughts he'd had earlier.

He laid himself out on the lush green grass and took a moment to simply breathe in the fresh air and survey the sparkling lake. Then, breathing a deep contented sigh, he reached into his bag and pulled out his Transfiguration book. He'd been working on it off and on throughout the week, but now seemed like a good a time as any to get it done. But he knew that even once he finished that, he still had an essay to do for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Then there was the homework for History of Magic on top of that...

Good thing that Professor Flitwick had just given him the notes the class had taken the day Bakura had been absent. At least he didn't have any charms homework. Professor Flitwick seemed nice, like Professor Hagrid. And unlike his Care of Magical Creatures professor, his Charms professor's stature reminded Bakura irresistibly of Yugi and allowed him to breath easier.

Thinking of his multi-colored haired friend, Bakura smiled and bent forward again to work on his Transfiguration.

...O

Some time later, long after Bakura had finished his Transfiguration homework and was deeply engrossed in his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay, he happened to glance up at the lake and see several figures reflected in its crystal waters, heading right toward him. Instinctively, he glanced their way only to see that they, a group of older students about his own age, were indeed all looking right at Bakura, and one in particular was looking especially unfriendly, his mouth taunt and his eyes narrowed.

Bakura didn't need his Divination book to tell him that the expression on that boy's face was not a good omen.

Wanting to avoid an incident, he collected his Defense Against the Dark Arts things back into his bag and started to climb to his feet. But unfortunately, the boy didn't seem too keen on letting him escape so easily and he sped up until he was standing right next to the timid white-haired teen. He towered over Bakura, his glowering facial features only adding to his the intimidating hostile aura that seemed to emanate off him.

Bakura swallowed hard and finished standing up, so as to be a little closer to the other boy's height. "May I help you?" he asked politely.

The boy just glared at him while his friends shot one another desperate looks, showing that they weren't much more pleased by this situation than Bakura.

"Come on man, just let it go," one hissed.

"Yeah, let's do something else," said another.

Bakura relaxed a little. At least the guy's friends were on his side. Though he shouldn't take it as too great a comfort, as his friends seemed to be about half as big as he was.

"Uh..." Bakura looked up into the face of the guy accosting him, assessing the immediate urgency of the situation. "Is... something wrong?" he asked hesitantly.

Evidently, these were not the right words. The boy suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Bakura by the collar.

"We met on the train, remember?" he growled, his face inches from Bakura's. "And you – you stole one of my robes."

Bakura swallowed. Oh, great. He should have known that that would come back to haunt him sooner or later.

But of course, with absolutely no idea how the confrontation between these boys and the spirit had gone, he had no idea how to act appropriately. Should he offer to give the robes back, in as bad a way as they were? Or maybe he should just apologize.

"Er..."

"That all you got to say? I bet you didn't think you'd be seeing me again, did you? Well, now I'm gonna beat you up _twice_ as bad as on the train."

Bakura felt the spirit scoff from somewhere in the back of his mind. Bakura had a moment of hope.

"But before that, I'm gonna take _your_ robes to make up for the ones you stole."

Before Bakura even had a chance to look shocked, the teen suddenly seized Bakura's robes around the waist area and began trying to pull them up off him. Bakura struggled against the iron grip with all his might. Would the spirit would just get involved and stop this? He didn't have to play a Shadow Game with them or anything, just say a word or two to make them think twice about harassing the harmless-looking Slytherin first year.

As Bakura held onto his robes for dear life, he felt the other teen's fist in his stomach as the boy tried to get him to relinquish his grip.

Okay, maybe just a little Shadow Game, so long as it was non-fatal.

However, there was no further activity from the spirit. Bakura gritted his teeth, though rationally he knew it was probably just as well. If the spirit got involved, it would probably result in souls being in mortal peril. The spirit never did like to do things small.

Meanwhile, the boy's friends were still trying to convince the boy to stop. Unfortunately, that seemed to be all they were doing.

"Hey, man, stop! Come _on_, don't do this!"

"You're gonna get us in so much trouble – "

"And what sort of trouble would that be?" asked an icy voice right behind them.

The friends whirled around and the largest boy turned halfway around, his hands still fastened to the waist of Bakura's robes.

"Professor Snape," said Bakura, wondering if it would be premature to go limp with relief right about now.

"What's going on here?" asked the Professor, his black eyes glittering.

There was silence for a moment, then all the friends started talking at once.

"That kid stole his robes – "

"He started a fight on the train – "

"He _stole _– "

One quelling look from the Professor silenced them immediately. "I see," he said coolly. "Dear, dear, how very disappointing... Gryffindors feeling the need to attack in groups. I'd say... ten points each for bullying."

"But _we_ weren't attacking him!" one of the friends said furiously, as the boy holding Bakura shoved him to the ground, yelling his agreement that only he should be the one to get in trouble.

"Silence," said the Professor. "One more word and I'll make it twenty." With that, he swept off toward the castle, his black robes billowing out behind him.

Almost as though in a trance, they simply watched him go. Then, snapping out of it, the boys slowly turned as one back to Bakura, all bearing their own degrees of murderous expressions.

Bakura gave them a sort of nervous smile before jumping to his feet and snatching up his bag. He took off after the Professor as fast as he could, eager to get away from the less than genial 'Gryffindors.'

Only after putting plenty of space between himself and the boys did he allow himself a sigh of relief. But still, he could not stop the frustration that welled up in him as well. The list of people he'd never met that not only knew him, but knew him enough to evidently consider him their enemy, was growing steadily longer.

It seemed that the spirit had gone and made terrible impressions on just about everyone, and now he was just going to leave Bakura to deal with it on his own, Bakura thought resentfully. Just like that time in Battle City when he had been accused of stealing that kid's duel disk...

Bakura sighed again. He glanced up in time to see Professor Snape disappear into the castle.

Bakura acknowledged that the Professor had not been entirely fair in the situation, but he could not help but be glad of the Professor's help. He'd thought the Professor really disliked him after the Floo Powder episode, but maybe he'd been wrong after all.

In any case, Bakura hoped to be able to readjust his opinion of the creepy professor. Perhaps Professor Snape wasn't all bad after all.

"_**Sin creates fear in one's heart... Fear leads one to endless darkness." **_

Replies to reviews:

cgflower: awww, thank you so much! :'D Still not sure if Draco's going to play a major part or not, but Bakura will have to meet Harry... eventually. XD

AnimeLoverAngel: No, he most certainly won't be. XD bakura's birthday certainly did turn out okay, but Snape probably would have savored it if he'd known he came close to ruining it at least ;D

Ryoufan: Well I'll try, but I can't promise TOO many more scenes (but still, don't worry; Ryou hasn't escaped all interactions with his cruel yami just yet ;D)

Computerfreak101: Yep, I'll consent that Yami Bakura could play anybody to get anything he wanted. XD

XD I get what you're saying about that cheering thing. I'm usually not crushed when I watch Yami Bakura lose on TV, but that's usually because I've gone and looked up episode summaries way, WAY beforehand (spoiler addict) so that I'm crushed while I'm reading the summaries and have time to get used to the idea by the time they come out. LOL

Heh, I love Yami... but I don't love him enough to be happy for him when he beats my favorite tomb robber. D: XD

Saffron-Starlight: D:! XD I never saw that! I'll have to go back and check that. thanks! No, Snape can't really 'sense' his evil per say; it's more like he just happens to notice 'Ryou' acting a little strangely.

Lex: Thanks! :'D Yeh, poor Bakura. ;O;' I'm just so mean to him. XD

Jastoz: HEY BUDDY! Glad you could make it. ;D and yeh, Yami Bakura knows how clever he is. ):F XD

chibikuro rose-sama: Yeh, I'll admit to that. XD Continued Survival's was pretty well done. I read up to about chapter fourteen, then I had to quit, because I can't read anything yaoi. ;O;' But even so, I'm glad you think it's different even if it does have some similar elements. D:

YAYAYAY! Over fifty reviews. :'D Thank you everyone!

(first vers. last edited 12/22/2006)


	15. A Dream of Flying, or Just a Nightmare?

AWWW! Sorry everyone for taking so long to update D: I blame my lack of self-discipline on the fact that there haven't been any new Yugioh episodes! That's usually what gets me thinking about Yugioh, and thus, on my Yugioh fanfictions. But without new Yugioh episodes (or any Yugioh episodes, period for that matter) I've not even been thinking about Bakura lately. D: But I hear there's going to be a new one soon, so maybe that problem's going to be solved after all. ;D

**-15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 15: Some Dream of Flying... Others Have Nightmares

"And that would mean..." Bakura flipped through his textbook again. "Okay, right," he muttered to himself as he wrote in tidy handwriting the last few lines on his parchment.

He sighed deeply and threw his quill down. "Finally finished," he said, stretching out his stiff arms in front of him and massaging his fingers. It was a good thing he'd decided to finish his Transfiguration homework before he ate lunch or he probably wouldn't have gotten time to finish before his next class with all he had to do.

Transfiguration had become increasingly more difficult over the past few weeks. True, he'd had tons more homework than the other students from the beginning as he had failed to Transfigure a single thing so far – in fact, he'd not been able to get his wand to do much of _anything_ since he'd arrived, only reinforcing his theory that he had no magic of his own. But still, he held out hope – Professor Flitwick seemed to think he might have some latent magic deep inside him,when he first got it and Bakura assured him that it had, he must have magic in there somewhere. Perhaps he would be able to tap into the power of the Millennium Ring and he would not stick out so much anymore.

He got so much homework in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Transfiguration that he had to dedicate several hours each week to nothing but written homework and study for those three classes, but luckily this was balanced by the relatively small amount of homework he received in Care of Magical Creatures and Potions, and the moderate amount he got in the rest of classes, though even so he had quickly grown to dislike Divination almost as much as the other three 'spell-casting classes' as he'd come to think of them, since he always managed to come out of Professor Trelawney's class feeling even more pessimistic and paranoid than he normally was, and that was saying something.

One thing that definitely improved the outlook though was that by late September Bakura was finally beginning to adjust to his bizarre surroundings. He was finally settling into the routine. So it came as an unpleasant surprise when a notice went up on the board that they would be starting flying lessons soon.

Bakura was nervous of starting a new class since it was not only certain to cut into his much-needed homework time, but also a new class meant a new subject – and a new subject to Bakura also meant a new chance to fail. But even so, he tried to stay optimistic. After all, everyone had a dream of getting a chance to fly, right?

* * *

As the time for the first lesson drew closer, Bakura began to worry that Olseth might start bothering him again if he really proved to be a terrible flier. It seemed lately that Olseth and the others were finally beginning to let up on Bakura, but that could change in an instant. He theorized that perhaps his roommates had finally gotten bored of him.

Or maybe, perhaps even more likely, Olseth just had more amusing targets nowadays – Bakura couldn't help but notice that Olseth seemed to be the biggest instigator of incidents related to the feud between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins.

Still, Olseth wasn't the only one Bakura had to worry about. He had become more widely... Well, 'disliked' was probably too strong a word, but the Slytherins always gave pitying, condescending looks whenever they passed him ever since the first day.

Everyone had heard Draco Malfoy, who, for some reason, was progressively becoming less lively every day, even to the point of looking almost sick lately, who had guess that Bakura was a 'mudblood.' Bakura discovered this was just a rude name for 'muggleborn,' though being unfamiliar with it it didn't bother him nearly as much as it did Orla and her Ravenclaw friends, who had taken to clustering around him during Divination and Care of Magical Creatures.

At least he was safe from attack in those classes as, unlike Bakura, they weren't at all hesitant to get a teacher involved if they had to, though without his Slytherin classmates, there wasn't much in those classes he needed protecting from. As grateful as he was for these temporary spans of safety, he was also often thoroughly uncomfortable with the way they seemed to look up to him, and the way the girls especially giggled incessantly when they were around him or had just been in his presense a moment before.

The other Slytherins had also learned from Olseth about how he couldn't perform a single spell and he had to endure the occasional ribbing over that, but as the older students weren't as interested in this as Olseth would have liked them to be, not tending to pay that much attention to first years anyway, those moments of their addressing him only to insult him were few and far between. Strangely enough though, they seemed to view that the fact that he was 'muggle-born' as more sneer-worthy than his inability to cast spells.

When Transfiguration finally ended that day and Bakura had received yet another boatload of homework as he had failed to transfigure his teabag, Bakura dropped his bag off at the Slytherin common room and headed off down to the sloping lawns where the flying lesson was to be held.

The air as usual smelled fresh and clean and the grass rippled slightly in the gentle breeze. A beautiful day in short though it had an edge of coolness that signaled fall had already arrived and winter would soon be on its way. Still, the nice weather succeeded in putting Bakura in a slightly better mood.

When he sighted the area where laid a collection of old broomsticks spaced evenly apart from each other, he headed over, figuring this must be the right place as he caught sight of his usual Slytherin classmates there.

Bakura kept his eyes down, determined not to make eye contact with Olseth. He had learned since he got here that Olseth generally only made fun of those unfortunate enough to catch his attention – so as far as bullies went, 'don't look at him, don't encourage him' had become Bakura's policy. He credited this new policy with his partial success rate lately of avoiding bullying.

Bakura instead focused his attention on the broom he was standing next to. Even though it had a mangy, well-worn appearance, it's old wooden handle and rough straw bristles had an almost nostalgic feel to them.

It was sort of hard to believe that the old thing would really fly. He was curious to see, but wasn't sure mounting the old battered thing and entrusting his life to it himself was worth it.

"All right, everyone find a broom!"

Bakura jumped as the sudden, harsh voice broke into his thoughts. He turned halfway around to see the flight instructor, Madame Hooch according the announcement board, striding up the field toward them, her face as hard and serious as that of a military seargent.

All the students ran around trying to get a broom next to their friends.

Madame Hooch waited until everyone had found a broom before she began yelling instructions. Whether she was trying to speak loud enough to be heard across the field or she just like yelling, Bakura didn't know. She ordered everyone in her abrasive tones to hold their right hands above their brooms and say "Up!"

They all did so. A few brooms jumped into their owner's hands immediately, but most either only came halfway up, or jumped only a few inches off the ground. Bakura wasn't even so lucky as that; his broom didn't move at all.

After some trying, eventually everyone got their brooms to rise the extra few inches or what not – or, in Bakura's case, finally just bent down and picked it up.

He thought he heard traces of ghost laughter somewhere to his right as he did this, but he did not turn his head to look. He squirmed uncomfortably and felt heat rising in his face, but other than that, tried to ignore it.

Next, Madame Hooch showed them what else they needed to know, like how to properly mount the broom and where to place your hands on the handle. Bakura was a little surprised how much there was to know about this. In fact, Bakura soon got so caught up in trying to place his hands in the correct spots that he temporarily forgot his embarrassment.

"All right everyone," said Madame Hooch, after she was done going around to help individual students. "Now that that's done with, you can get ready to start flying."

There was an excited titter and Madame Hooch eyed them suspiciously. "Not yet," she growled. "Wait for my instructions or I'm kicking you off the field and you're never coming back."

She waited for the class to go silent again, which didn't take long.

Bakura gripped the handle of his broom a little tighter and leaned forward to catch every word, determined to make sure he did it all right.

"Listen carefully: I want you all to push yourselves a few feet off the ground, hover there for a moment, then come back down. Lean forward on the broom a little. On my whistle. One, two... three!" The screech of Madame Hooch's whistle sounded and there was a flurry of movement as several people began their ascent.

Some shot several feet up instantly, then touched back down just as quickly as if they did it every day. Some were too timid to even leave the ground, while still others seemed content to let their brooms rise slowly, keeping in complete control and not in any sort of hurry.

In group three, Bakura was probably the least hurried of anyone. He had his hands in a death grip around the handle as he put every tensed muscle he possessed in to keeping the broom steady as it rose slowly, centimeter by centimeter.

About two feet above the ground, Bakura was starting to feel nervous. _'This is probably high enough,'_ he thought, surveying the ground through his single eye, sorely missing his other eye now as he would have really liked to have his depth perception at a time like this.

He kept his hands clenched around the old wooden handle and his whole body stayed tense as he started to lower the broom back down.

"Hey Scarf-face, shake any more and your broom will fall apart!"

Bakura was so tense and caught up in his concentration on what he was doing that he, in a completely involuntary reaction, jerked violently. And thus, so did his broom. The broom, now pointed almost straight up, started to drift lazily toward the blue sky above.

This would have been fine and easy to correct except that, seeing the sky open before him and having lost control temporarily he panicked. Letting out a soft cry he instinctively redirected the broom downward.

Mistake: the broom suddenly shot forward, this time angled at the ground. Frantically, Bakura righted the broom, then caught sight of the castle in front of him. Even though it was still a long ways off, the broom was moving fast enough to cause its rider to make another startled movement and he changed the direction of the broom a third time. Bakura clung to the broom for all it was worth as it rose steeply into the air. He was no longer trying to change the broom's direction or speed, but simply clung to the wooden stick for dear life, hoping against hope that he didn't run into anything.

Eye shut tightly, he nearly let go in shock as the broom gave a sudden shudder. The broom was slowing down now. It moved slower and slower until the old, mangy broomstick came to a dead stop.

At first Bakura was pleased, but then he opened his eye and the first thing he did was look down. And nearly fainted.

Depth perception or no, Bakura didn't see himself being any less than twenty feet or so above the ground, all faces fairly small and insignificant in appearance. Out of all of them, his sight honed in on Olseth and he saw that the boy was grinning. Bakura found himself vaguely remembering that of course it had been Olseth to call out to him. No doubt this exceeded his expectationsn.

Underneath all his fright, Bakura couldn't help but feel a tinge of annoyance. For an eleven-year-old, he was certainly rather nasty and sadistic. There should be some rule that they shouldn't be able to act like that until they were Kaiba's age at least.

Bakura squeezed his eye shut again and tightened his grasp on his broom handle, keeping his legs wrapped securely around it as well. However, he reluctantly opened his eye again a moment later when he heard someone speaking to him in tones other than the jeering of the students from below. The sharp-eyed Madame Hooch was apparently telling him to come back down.

However, at the moment Bakura wasn't terribly interested in what she had to say. Now, if she was going to come up here and rescue him that would be a different story. But as it was, Bakura was about as certain as a person could be that if he tried to move so much as an inch, he was going to end up falling to a painful death. Or he'd fall to something painful at least. 'Death' might be a little melodramatic.

Still somehow unable to shirk politeness completely even in a situation like this though, he didn't tell her what he thought of the teacher's suggestion and, making eye contact with her, slowly shook his head once fractionally, being careful not to disrupt his balance atop the broom.

Not one to accept insubordination, Madame Hooch of course wasn't about to stand for this and shouted, "Get back down here this instant!" as though Bakura had intentionally got himself into this situation. And who knew, maybe she thought he had. As far as Bakura was concerned, if she ordered him off the field once he got down and told him he would never fly again, he would consider it about the best thing that had happened to him all day.

She continued to shout orders at him for a little while, but when that had no effect she changed to giving him specific advice such as "Angle the nose toward the ground, a little at a time!" and "Ease up on the grip and you'll have better control, it's not like you'll fall off!"

Bakura tried his best to listen to what she was saying, but all the same he had no intention of moving at all. Angle the broom toward the ground – ha, good one. With his luck, he'd overdo it and he'd hurtle toward the ground again as he had earlier. Maybe he should just jump off the broom instead, that would probably hurt less.

But as he imagined falling down and hitting the ground at full force, breaking bones and knocking every last bit of air from his lungs, Bakura felt himself become light-headed again and he had to try to calm himself so as not to lose his balance. He closed his eye again, but was quickly finding that this made it even more frightening as he suddenly didn't trust himself not to forget he was suspended in midair above the ground and try to dismount, thinking this must all be his imagination.

So he tried gazing at the open sky directly in front of him, but found his vision continually straying back to the ground and all the students on it, who by now, like Olseth, all seemed to think it was a big joke. Some laughed and pointed, while others made degrading comments that often included some form of questioning his masculinity, with Madame Hooch all the while continuing to try and convince him to come down.

After twenty minutes of a combination of coaxing and shouting to a constant background noise of laughter that was only interrupted once in a while when Madame Hooch glared at the highly amused group of students and shouted at them to be quiet, Bakura finally managed to get both feet back on the ground. As soon as he reached it he let himself fall to his knees and he threw the broom away without looking at it. He would be happy if he never saw a broom again, even if it was to sweep a room.

Trembling slightly, Bakura slowly climbed back up to his feet, his legs numb from hanging in midair for so long. He turned and walked away, ignoring those who laughed at him as he passed and tried valiantly to smile at those few – those very few – who actually asked if him if he was all right.

He found a place at the edge of the field and sat down in the lush grass, not looking up.

He had never known. The way he had felt, hanging motionless in midair on something so small with nothing to support his arms or legs, stranded so far above the ground without help... Alone...

Bakura instinctively placed a hand over his pounding heart, his breath coming in short gasps and felt something metallic and circular hanging against his chest.

He blinked a little in surprise. Then for some reason, he felt his whole tense body and sore muscles relax a moment. A strange, almost guilty out-of-place smile played at his lips.

Well, maybe not completely alone.

"_**People who played games with me would lose consciousness. They're still in a coma in the hospital..."**_

Replies to reviews:

AnimeLoverAngel: LOL, Yami Bakura's so mean ):F and LAZY too. There are some people who just never change XD

Computerfreak101: Yeh, that would've been cool. (Yami Bakura: I will now send you all to the shadow realm! AHAHAHAHA!)

chibikuro rose-sama: He might someday... If he can find some way to benefit himself with it, that is. ;D XD

cgflower: Aww! :'D He can't help being mean; it makes him feel good about himself D: XD Actually, Harry and co. do play an important role later on ;D I'll just say that.

Lex: (cough, cough) ehehe, that's a very, ah, very good guess. LOL XD (pooor Bakura; I'm just so mean to him D: )

Ice-Spirit Phoenix: thank you! yeh, there aren't enough good stories D: finding them is the real trouble for me though xDDD

Saffron-Starlight: Evil gryffindors! ):f xD Yeh, let's hope not D: I'll just have to try extra hard ;D

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO'S REVIEWED! :DDDD THANK YOU!

Yeh... please be sure to r and r!

(last edited 3/31/2006)


	16. School Library and Nightmares

YAY! New Yugiohs. :D I just love watching Yami Bakura get attacked by Yugi's puff ball monsters (he's so insulted xD), but I was so sad when he lost! DDDD: That was no fair at all. He had it won! D: no fair ;OO;

I know this hasn't exactly been a fast update, but I have been thinking about this fic lately for a change. xD For some reason, I went obsessed and started to turn this fic into a manga! LOL (because I finally decided to get started on practicing drawing manga in case I actually decide to do that for a living when I grow up D: ) So, I'm not professional in the least, (don't get that idea or you'll be sorely disappointed LOL) but if you get really, REALLY bored one day and just feel like loading large image files, I plan on posting them and putting up a link in my bio sometime in the future (HOPEFULLY before I post chapter 17, so sometime in the next two months xD). Btw, the manga doesn't follow the fic word for word or anything and I'll just say that I probably won't be doing the entire story. XD (LAZY)

**-16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 16: School Library and Nightmares

The students spent the rest of the class practicing their flying. Madame Hooch, after a time, came over and asked Bakura if he wanted to try again, but Bakura declined. Politely he hoped, though he didn't feel particularly polite at the moment. Privately he thought he would rather take extra classes with Professor Snape than ever take his feet off the ground again.

And Bakura continued to feel the same way for the rest of the day directly after the incident, but by the next morning, the nervous fear that had been eating away at him had begun to fade and left only embarrassment in its wake. Embarrassment as in, he always got the irresistible urge to go bang his head against a wall whenever he thought about it.

It didn't help that his Slytherin and Gryffindor classmates seemed to have joined forces for once to spread the story of 'the first year who should be in sixth year who's terrified of just riding a broom' as far and wide as they could. However, fortunately it didn't seem that that many were interested. It turned out rather to be one of those stories that ended with the person being told deadpanning at the end and the one saying it quickly adding, "You had to have been there."

In fact, Bakura might have been allowed to forget the event entirely had he not been ambushed as he was climbing into his Divination classroom a few days later, every single female student in the class demanding to know if he was okay to the point that he was starting to wish he was back up on the broom.

He appreciated their concern of course, but being asked question after question about it and listening to indignant insistences that the old broom must not have been airworthy when he knew it was his own ineptitude that had gotten him into the situation in the first place, when he would have much preferred to keep the entire incident out of his head as much as possible was excessively tiring.

On top of that, Professor Trelawney seemed keen on encouraging everyone's concern, making a big deal out of being so happy that Bakura had put off his premature demise a little longer.

Needless to say, by the end of the period, all of the guys were either glaring or looking sulky, while the girls, with Orla first in line, seemed more than prepared to become his self-appointed personal body guards.

Bakura couldn't help but wonder how they'd managed to find out at all seeing as how there had only been Slytherins and Gryffindors taking the flying lessons that day, but he supposed that the story must probably be more widespread than he'd assumed, just that his female third-year Ravenclaw classmates had been the only ones who actually cared. He hoped they would forget about it soon, but that didn't seem too likely at he moment. And he still had the reactions of the Hufflepuffs in his Care of Magical Creatures class to look forward to.

Sigh, if this was a normal school and he was in a normal situation, he could just change schools, he thought to himself. After all, it wasn't as though he hadn't done it before.

...O

Bakura was glad when mid-October rolled around and a trip to a place called 'Hogsmeade' was put up on the board. Apparently, Hogsmeade was a village made up entirely of witches and wizards, where you could buy all sorts of magical items, especially candy and joke items. Most everyone who was old enough loved to go. Apparently this would be the third years' first time going, which meant that all his Divination and Care of Magical Creatures classmates were bound to go.

Orla and the others had seemed disappointed when he said that he would not be going and they tried to convince him to try to convinced him to get permission, especially since he was already seventeen and therefore technically old enough to make his own decisions on such things even without the consent of a guardian.

He declined to press the issue or even find out though, but told them they could tell him all about it when they got back.

In fact, Bakura had plans to spend the whole day in the school library. He'd only been there once or twice before to pick up some books he had to get for outside research, and he had not been able to spend much time there at the time, but he had liked the mysterious, almost tomb-like atmosphere and the musty smell of the hundreds of old magic books. This weekend seemed like a good opportunity to do some reading there and look around a bit, seeing as how he would have the place pretty much to himself and around Hogwarts that was generally preferable.

As he entered, the librarian Madame Pince spared him half a glance before going back to what she was doing. Bakura found a large padded chair to sit in and set his bag down. He only had a little more Defense Against the Dark Arts homework and some Transfiguration to finish up, then he could poke around the shelves of beautiful old books some until he found something to catch his interest.

...O

Several hours later, long after Bakura had become deeply engrossed in the pages of a book about sorcery and the occult in general and how the muggle versions of these things had developed in relation to their original wizarding sources, Bakura happened to glance up at the clock and, startled, wondered if he ought to be getting back to the common room.

Sighing, Bakura nodded slightly to himself before climbing to his feet and stretching. It was already early evening and even though the Hogsmeade trip was generally an all-day thing, he didn't know what time the others would start getting back, and he would rather avoid the other students altogether if he could, especially any Gryffindors and Slytherins. Or perhaps they had already come back and just not opted to go to the library.

Bakura picked up his bag and took the occult book to the desk for Madame Pince to check out. As Bakura was heading down the corridor to the common room, humming a little to himself, he saw someone up ahead already going in.

"Hippogriff's head," said Malfoy in a toneless voice before he trudged inside and out of sight.

Bakura reached the entrance, which by then had gone back to being a stone wall. He hesitated a moment, just standing there thinking. It seemed like the bleach-blond sixth year Slythering just looked more and more terrible each time Bakura saw him.

The next day, as Bakura sat in his usual spot by himself at the Slytherin table eating breakfast, he overheard the girls sitting nearest him talking.

"Did you hear about what happened to that Katie Bell?" one asked in a low voice.

"I heard that _something _happened, but I didn't hear any of the details." the other whispered back, raising her eyebrows. "Isn't she one of the Gryffindor Chasers?"

Bakura stopped eating, listening hard in apprehension. He didn't like the emphasis the girl had put on the word 'something'.

"Yeah, she is," the first girl answered. "Anyway, while she was at Hogsmeade yesterday..."

It was only a little while later that Bakura was heading back to the common room, thinking about the conversation he had overheard. He had left without even so much as finishing his breakfast. After what he'd heard, he hadn't had much of an appetite.

Someone had been attacked. _Attacked._ Now everyone was wondering who could be behind it. Bakura didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't stop himself from fearing the worst. A defenseless girl...

Bakura came to a stop as he reached the hidden entranceway. Faraway, almost as if it were someone else speaking, Bakura heard himself say the password and he stepped into the common room. He kept his head bowed and didn't look at the others as he walked straight through the main room without pausing on to the dormitories, as the conversation played itself out yet again in his head.

"_She was badly injured. They say she was imperiused before it happened."_

"_But who could have done that? I mean seriously, who would use a cursed necklace just to get her?"_

"_Maybe someone out to get rid of Gryffindor's Quidditch players. Goodness knows we haven't had a decent victory in a while. But what I want to know is, how did they manage to get into Hogsmeade with it? With all this extra security, you'd think they'd wouldn't have gotten it in so easily."_

"_I have no idea. I bet Hogwarts has better security than Hogsmeade, but still, it's not very reassuring is it? Wish Dumbledore would step it up, my parents say he's turned into a doddering old fool. Maybe they're right. But you don't think that whoever it was will go after someone else, do you? I mean, Bell almost **died**, and now she's in a coma in St. Mungo's._"

"_Dunno, I guess anything could happen now. But I say that whoever it was would have to be stupid to try it twice, since security will probably be even a hundred times tighter after this, and a hundred times tighter than that even before this is all over."_

Bakura laid down in bed on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"_Stupid to try it twice..." _Whoever it had been wouldn't be so stupid if they had so much power they didn't care about being caught.

_A cursed necklace. Still in a coma in the hospital._

The words the girls had said pounded in his head, altered to fit another occasion so similar to this one and he bit his lip hard to keep from crying out in desperation. His skin turned cold and clammy and he felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

He shook his head, trying to force himself to calm down and think it all through rationally. It really was unlikely, wasn't it? For one thing, Katie Bell had been attacked yesterday while everyone was at Hogsmeade and Bakura could account for where he'd been all that time. Not once had he had one of those creepy sensations of being one place one minute, then finding himself somewhere else entirely the next, completely in the dark about where he'd been or what he'd been doing.

Bakura's face was twisted in anguish and his eyebrows were drawn in such concern the muscles between them had begun to ache. He didn't want to think about these things anymore.

Instead he concentrated on making each of his breaths deep and long to distract himself. The soft, steady intake of air made a sort of rhythm that, though all the troubling thoughts continued to churn in the confines of his mind, eventually helped sleep find its way into his exhausted mind, smoothing his creased forehead and pulling his eyelid down over his tired eye.

Ah, but for Ryou Bakura, he could only dream of the reality where sleep meant rest...

...O

_A searing pain shot through his arm. A burning, writhing agony._

_He kept his hand clasped over the pain and he stifled a cry. Icy cold winds that he hadn't noticed a moment before suddenly overtook him, whistling in his exposed ears and slashing at his open wound._

_It took all the strength he possessed, but he lifted his head to see if there was anyone to help him. But as his gaze traveled upward, he caught sight of something of tremendous proportions looming up in front of him. _

_At first he could not place what it could be but as soon as he did, Bakura felt his insides freeze and goosebumps break out on his arms, his foggy mind temporarily forgetting the ever-consuming pain in his arm. The thing in front of him, blotting out the sun was not a building or a mountain. _

_This... was a monster. An enormous monster with yellow eyes that glinted malevolently in the dark fog, electricity dancing around the creatue's gaping jaws. Bakura sensed its desire to attack, to destroy, to fulfill the purpose of its very existence._

_Suddenly, in the ever thickening mist, Bakura caught sight of a figure standing just underneath the giant leviathan. Even though Bakura could not make out any features, he immediately knew who the figure was and relief flooded his system, temporarily overriding the mind-numbing pain his arm._

"_Yugi!" Bakura called desperately to his friend. "Where... where am I...?"_

_Yugi's face suddenly came sharply into focus, full of concern and worry. He started forward toward the injured, panting Bakura, but then suddenly he stopped, hesitating._

"_Yugi?" Bakura called out, uncertain, but even as the word left his mouth he sensed something was wrong._

_He could hear voices all around, whispering to his friend. Continue the battle, they said. Attack. _

_Fear replaced relief. Didn't Yugi know he couldn't wait much longer for help? That he would soon die of this pain, that this monster wanted to kill him? "Yugi..." Bakura whimpered. "It really hurts..." Bakura choked on the words as he was hit with another wave of pain that sent violent tremors shooting down through all his limbs._

"_Please," Bakura begged, almost sobbing as he lowered his head in despair._

_The electric sparks began to gather at a point in the giant red dragon's mouth and Bakura's breath caught in his throat, but he did not raise his head, his eyes wide as he stared at the ground beneath him through his tears. He shook, spasms of fear and pain that wracked his thin frame. _

_Please, he thought. He didn't want to face death. He didn't want to die..._

_The Egyptian god gazed down at him through cold yellow eyes. It took in the poor, pathetic boy, so injured and insignificant. A boy so utterly helpless in the presence of one of the most powerful beings to ever exist. _

_Without warning, the god's jaws opened with a violent snap and the beast brought forth an almighty beam of energy – a destructive force unlike anything Bakura had ever seen before, or would see again._

"_Please, someone," Bakura cried, the pain of his wound overcoming all thought and reason. All that passed through his mind in his last few moments were those feelings of the hot irons of fever burning against his face, the icy needles of the wind piercing his chest. _

"_Anyone..."_

_Suddenly, another figure appeared, standing in front of him. Shielding him._

_Even in pain, even paralyzed by fear and driven mad by the knowledge he was entirely alone, Bakura yet had the strength to see the one standing before him and wonder why._

Bakura jerked awake, drenched in cold sweat. He let out a soft cry and sat up abruptly, covering his mouth as though about to throw up. He took a moment to glance about the emerald curtains hanging about his bed and to look down at his blanket, which had somehow managed to get all twisted up around his legs even though he'd gone to sleep on top of it.

"A dream," he gasped. "Just a dream..." He forced himself to regulate his breathing, then let out a sigh of relief. He closed his eye and laid back down against his pillow.

That whole situation, that fiasco, had been long ago. Or well, it seemed like a long time ago to him, several months or so by now at least. It was one of the few memories he had of the spirit of the Ring that he knew must exist just for the sake of confusing him, though he was not sure what exactly made it confusing.

Of course, Bakura could never fool himself into thinking the spirit had done it because he actually had some sense of honor, or that he actually felt some attachment for the body he'd gladly drag through Hell and back if it could put him ahead in his goal by a single day.

Bakura bit his lip. He knew that, yet for some reason he always felt queasy inside when he recalled that particular memory. He'd just rather not think about that time. He couldn't make sense of it, any of it, not right now.

Bakura glanced at the clock and, registering what it read this time, realized that it was almost lunchtime. He sighed and turned his gaze back up to the ceiling. He wasn't particularly hungry, but perhaps being someplace else, somewhere away from the dead silence of his now empty dorm room would help take his mind off things. Sometimes, a headache from unbearably noisy chatter was simply preferable to thinking at all.

"_**This boy's weak soul, his fragile body... They only exist for that day. The day I collect all the Millennium Items."**_

Replies to reviews:

LazyShamanist: thanks! Yeah, I never know what to say either D: xD

AnimeLoverAngel: Me too! I'm one person who you won't catch pursuing a career in sky diving... (LOL, better make sure to give YB an older broom if you try that out; he might go all 'Welcome to the Shadow Realm' on us D: xD)

Computerfreak101: LOL, actually, wasn't that his friends he was sealing into figurines? (Yami Bakura's so nice, isn't he? xD) Only that one time he sealed the unfair gym teacher...

Saffron-Starlight: Yeh... D: I'm so mean to him xD

cgflower: Yeh, I thought that might be a way to make this fic a little different D: How's Bakura going to survive without the use of his wand? Who says he will? xDD I guess we'll find out...

Lex: LOL, poor Neville xD

Naomi Maxwell: awww! Thanks :'D I'm glad.

Lily of the Shadow: :D thanks

Thank you everyone who reviewed! :DDDD Please r and r.

(last edited 10/14/2008)


	17. The Quidditch Match

I updated finally! :O So yeh, haven't really been working on this fic lately... I've been drawing all the time and watching anime, instead. xD But it's summer now, so who knows how much of this fic I'll get done? - ;D

Oh, btw, for anyone who was wondering, I was thinking of linking the fanmanga in my bio every ten pages, so that you don't have to keep checking (and going through all the pages) just to see if I added more. Or something. Yeh, if that makes any sense. xD

**-17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Nani means "what"

"Thank you very much" is Arigato Gozaimasu

Chapter 17: The Quidditch Match

Bakura slowly climbed the stairs that led out of the dungeon and up to the Great Hall. He couldn't get his mind off that dream.

It made him sick inside to admit it, but besides the spirit, he was truly all alone here in this castle. Perhaps it was making him desperate, and the fact that he needed companionship so badly was why his subconscious had dredged up that old memory.

He had always trusted himself never to fall for the spirit's constant flow of false words that always ended with actions that went against what he'd said. Yet Bakura understood more than anything that loneliness could warp anyone's point of view. It could make your worst enemies seem like your friends and your closest friends seem like your enemies – when you're all alone and no one around you knows the same things you do.

Bakura stopped at the top of the stairs, his hand resting lightly on the handrail and his eye fixed on the stone floor.

No, he wasn't as weak as that. All he needed to do was focus on all the terrible things he'd seen the spirit do and the monster that he was –

Bakura blinked suddenly, the thought coming to a grinding halt, and a certain unease settled over him. That didn't sound right. Focusing on his own building resentment, on the memories of the spirit's evil that Bakura had been stockpiling all this time somehow didn't seem quite...

Bakura shook his head slightly, then started walking again, toward the Great Hall. What he reallyneeded right now was to see Yugi and the others again and not think about the spirit at all. If he could only talk to Yugi, Yugi would take care of everything, as he always did.

And all Bakura could do was try not to think of the memory of the giant red dragon that flickered behind his eye, as the creature opened his jaws to blow him apart, and Yugi stood there, deaf to his plea for mercy...

...O

The days passed and before long October ended, leaving November to begin. It wasn't until mid-November however that Bakura learned of an interesting sport called 'Quidditch.' Bakura had never been much interested in sports and what you'd call 'physical' games before, but he couldn't help but be at least a little fascinated by the concept of a game played on broomsticks.

Even though Bakura's last experience on a broom had been less than favorable, he liked listening to the others talk about it. In fact, with all the detailed strategies and tips they described, Bakura was starting to get a small inclination for another shot on a broom, so he could try some of them out himself. A _very _small inclination.

Also, he wondered if it could be his imagination, but Bakura couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be more animosity between the Slytherins and Gryffindors than usual. Well all he could say was, with all the mysterious bad things that happened to the Quidditch players as the upcoming match approached, Bakura sure was glad he wasn't one of them.

Bakura shrugged slightly to himself, forcing himself to focus on what he was doing. He held his wand tightly as, once again, he focused all his attention on the teacup he'd been trying to repair for the last hour.

"_Reparo!_" he whispered, jabbing his wand at the broken shards. But, as usual, nothing happened, save he accidentally made contact with one of the shards and broke it into two smaller pieces. Bakura sighed. At least he'd discovered which times of day the library was usually pretty much empty, so he could spend time there other than when everyone was gone on an excursion to Hogsmeade. Sometime during lunch or during supper were usually good bets.

Now he could spend almost as much time in the library as he wanted, practicing spells that he knew he was _never_ going to master...

Bakura sighed, discouraged, before mustering his concentration once again. "_Reparo!_" he hissed.

Bakura heard a sigh from right behind him and someone asked in a slightly exasperated tone, "Do you want me to help you with that spell?"

Bakura colored slightly. He hadn't realized that there were other people in the library right now. Well, besides Madame Pince of course, who was sitting at her desk out of view of Bakura who always made sure to keep the dusty wooden shelves as a barrier.

Bakura turned his head to see a girl with bushy brown hair and a boy with glasses and messy black hair standing behind him. Bakura recognized the boy as the popular captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Bakura couldn't stop his flush of embarrassment from deepening. "Ah..." he said uncertainly, while the girl leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at his open charms book and at his broken teacup.

"Is that The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One?" she asked after a moment, sounding surprised. "What year are you in?"

"First year," Bakura muttered, ashamed. It wasn't as though she had said in a condescending way exactly, but her evident surprise made it so Bakura couldn't help but take it that way.

"You're in first year?" she asked, her eyebrows raised. "But you're a bit old, aren't you?"

Bakura was definitely have a déjà vu moment, and he wondered just how many times he'd had this conversation in the last few months. He should have been used to it by now, but he squirmed uncomfortably anyway, wishing once again that his situation wasn't so unusual. "Well, I guess I'm what you'd call a late-starter," he said. "I just started this year."

"Right," said the Quidditch captain. "I think I've heard of you."

Bakura suppressed a wince.

"Have you?" said the girl, looking surprised and she exchanged a look with him.

The boy looked at her, grinning slightly. "Something I know that you don't, somebody stop the presses."

"Never mind then," she said, looking a little annoyed as the teen next to her continued to grin. She turned back to Bakura. "Well, if you remember, I'm Hermione Granger. This is a friend of mine, Harry Potter. But I'm afraid I didn't catch your name while we were in the carriages..." She frowned slightly as she trailed off in thought.

Bakrua felt a lurch in his stomach at these last few words. He had begun to think he was past these little unpleasant surprises, finding out about things he had done at this castle before he had 'woken up.' Well, at least these people didn't seem to have an unfavorable impression yet, at least not as unfavorable as the unfortunate Gryffindor who'd had his robes lifted on the train.

"O-Oh, I apologize for that," he said, making his voice the most polite he could manage, sensing an opportunity to make a good impression on at least one person in this castle and not about to pass it up. "I'm Ryou Bakura."

"Ryou," she said, repeating the name and giving Bakura a slightly confused look as though he'd just done something unexpected. "Right... So you want me to help you with the spell?"

"Uhn... if it's not any trouble..." said Bakura, knowing how timid he looked and sounded but unable to help himself.

"We're in no big hurry," said Hermione, sitting down across from him with her friend sitting down next to her. "Are we?" She turned to her friend.

He snorted. "Are you asking or telling me? But I don't think I'm the one with the ultimately tight schedule anyone's ever seen."

"Good," she said, apparently deciding to ignore his teasing tone and turned back to Bakura.

"Ariga – Thank you very much," Bakura said, trying to force a smile, but his nervousness only allowed a small upturning of his lips. He really didn't want to bother them, especially if it turned out he'd been rude to them earlier before he was conscious, but it might have been just as rude to insist that he not have their help. And he could deny he desperately needed all the help he could get.

"Don't mention it," said Hermione, brushing off his thanks and looked a little embarrassed herself. She shot Bakura another odd look, she turned her attention to the cup. "Now, let's see it then."

"Nani? Oh, right." Feeling a little nervous with the audience, he took a quick glance at the example in his text to make sure he was including all the steps described, though he had looked over them so many times he knew them by heart by now, before pointing his wand at the cup shards again. "_Reparo!_" he said in a soft, clear voice, but nothing happened as usual. Bakura slumped back into his chair feeling defeated, also as usual.

Hermione frowned slightly. "That's really odd," she said. "It _looks_ like you're doing it right to me." She was thoughtful a moment before she added, slowly, "Perhaps... Well hm, could it be that there's something wrong with your wand? If you didn't get it from Olivanders, maybe it was made defective somehow. Strange that it doesn't do _anything_ though..."

"Well," said Bakura, trying hard to remember. Then, "Oh no, we didn't get it from him. I remember because we tried going to his shop, but it was closed down."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione with a satisfied expression. "Olivanders is the best wandmaker there is and his wands are always trustworthy," she said. "But he disappeared recently and people have had to get their wands elsewhere. I know there are lots of good wandmakers other than Olivanders out there, but if you don't get yours from him, then there's always a chance there could be a defect of some kind, at least that's what I've heard."

Bakura could just imagine the female wandmaker's choice words of vehement indignation if she heard this, but he couldn't stop the spark of hope that ignited in his chest once again.

"You think so?" Bakura asked, forgetting to be diffident for once. If it was indeed the wand's fault he couldn't perform any spells, then he could get another one, and he would be able to do magic.

"Maybe," he said softly, a real smile spreading across his lips for the first time since he'd been talking to these two. He quickly forced his expression back to neutral though, well aware it wasn't wise to get his hopes up.

"Here, I can test it for you," she said. She waved the wand around a little, muttering under her breath. Several different colors of sparks shot out of the end. Finally, when she was done with her inspection, she handed the wand back to Bakura with a sigh.

"It seems all right," she said shrugging, her forehead creased in thoughtful confusion.

Unable to completely mask his disappointment, Bakura sighed too. "I shouldn't be surprised. But thank you for trying."

Hermione shook her head. "I just don't get it."

Bakura smile was almost bitter now. "Hermione, isn't it? Don't worry about it, Hermione. I think it's probably _me _that's defective."

This pronouncement was followed by a rather awkward silence. Bakura lifted his eye, forcing himself to smile brightly, as though it had been a joke. "Nothing you could do about that, is there?" he said, his tone a bit more jovial than he felt.

"You'll get it eventually," said Harry finally, smiling encouragingly. "Everyone learns at their own pace. Hermione can't ride a broom to save her life – " Hermione rolled her eyes, but her lips twitching in a smile anyway – "And she can do pretty much anything. But anyway, I think I'd better get going. I've scheduled Quidditch practice in a while, and I always try to get there a bit early."

Bakura breathed a small sigh of relief, glad for the change of subject. "Oh, you had to replace one of your players, didn't you?" he said sympathetically, hoping they wouldn't pick up on anything unusual in his tone. Like guilt, for instance. "I'm... I'm sorry. Good luck at the Quidditch match."

"Thanks," said Harry, apparently not noticing Bakura's odd tone or at least pretending not to. "Good luck with that spell."

"I'd better go too," said Hermione. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

Bakura shrugged. "It's okay," he said. "Thanks anyway."

Hermione and Harry walked out of the library and left Bakura staring at their backs.

He smiled slightly despite himself. Even if they hadn't helped him with his spell all that much, this was the first time anyone at the school hadn't either been laughing at him for not being able to perform any spells or looking at him with goo-goo eyes, no offense to Orla and her ilk, of course.

Bakura sighed again and shook his head. He started to stand up. Well, it was obvious that he was wasting his time. He would never get this spell right. Or any other spell for that matter.

Suddenly he stopped, then slowly sank back down into his seat. His eye widened for a moment. Then, bowing his head as though almost about to fall asleep, his eye fell into shadow underneath his long thick bangs. He lifted his head again a moment later to gaze at the broken teacup sitting in front of him. He gave his wrist a slight, casual flick and pointed his wand at the cup.

"_Reparo!_" he hissed, his cold voice raspy and low.

This time, sparks of gold and black shot from the end of the wand, and the shards of the cup united with such force that red-hot lines appeared where the shards came together. Then, as suddenly as it had happened, the red-orange lines vanished, leaving the cup whole once more without the slightest blemish.

Excitement danced in the cold, hard eye and his lips curled upward into a demonic grin.

"Oh, yes," said the spirit softly. "Looks like things are coming along very well..."

...O

The next day, Bakura got up early and ate his breakfast as fast as he could manage while still maintaining a bit ofdignity. But he was eager to be off. After all, the first Quidditch match of the season was to be held today.

Without further delay, Bakura went down to the giant field next to the castle and, glad he'd gotten there so early, found himself a seat among the sea of green and silver that passed as Slytherin's supporters. Luckily, it was a relatively good seat that lacked any obvious obstructions, and it wasn't too near the bottom. He guessed that a front row seat wouldn't be ideal for a game played up in the air.

Bakura shivered, drawing his emerald scarf a little tighter around him and gazed up at the clear, blue sky. It was a pretty nice day, but that didn't stop the occasional chilling November breeze from blowing in.

Bakura leaned forward to get a better look, grinning slightly in excitement as he watched the fourteen Quidditch players and Madame Hooch stride out onto the pitch.

Bakura picked out Harry easily with his distinctive round glasses and messy black hair. After the Griffindor Quidditch captain had been so nice to him the other day, Bakura now silently wished him the best of luck. But of course, at the same time, he could not help but hope for a victory for his House, even if not a one of them had treated him like one of their number. He had a sense of loyalty that he couldn't quite shake, and it wasn't as though he had a close friend in any of the other House. Though when Ravenclaw played a game, he decided he would root for them, for Orla and his other Divination classmates' sakes.

He wondered though if his rooting for Slytherin would actually not be such a good thing for his House. With his luck, now they would probably lose. Not, if what he was heard was right, that Slytherin needed much help on that front anyway, not having won a single match against Gryffindor in the last five years. Plus, the chances of victory seemed even slimmer than usual as Slytherin was missing two of it's usual players, including its seeker Malfoy, seekers just happening to be the most important players in the game, who claimed to be too sick to play.

Though he didn't want to be rude, Bakura was a little skeptical of this excuse however. While he would admit that Malfoy did look rather sickly most of the time, Malfoy was almost always leaving the common room and not resting by any means.

Oh well, at least he could be happy for Harry and Hermione if Gryffindor did end up winning.

So the match began with the Slytherin Captain taking possession of the big red ball which Bakura had learned from a little reading up on the game was called the 'Quaffle.' However, the Gryffindor keeper saved it, with the commentator, who'd been going off for some time on how the keeper was only on the team because he was friends with the captain, dismissing this as luck.

The commentator continued making all sorts of derogatory comments about the Griffindors with each and every comment greeted by cheers from the crowd around him.

However, this was pretty much the only chance they got to applaud for anything as the Griffindor keeper successfully blocked every goal the Slytherins tried to make and the Slytherins didn't manage to block a single one.

The game was almost unbearable to watch and Bakura was glad when the Gryffindor Captain finally caught the snitch and ended the game, two-hundred and fifty to zero. Gryffindor had completely destroyed Slytherin, but even so, Bakura was able to smile a little, glad for Harry and the other Gryffindors as the team flew to hug him in midair.

Bakura got to his feet, preparing to return to the common room, then stopped, turning his head to look back down at Harry and the others.

_'Maybe I could just...'_

Bakura smiled slightly, a bit bashfully. It really had been an impressive victory. Maybe he could go congratulate them all on it. Maybe that Hermione would even be there too. He could show them that he had no hard feelings just because they had won, unlike all his fellow Slytherins.

As Bakura headed off to the changing rooms, he tried to ignore that mocking voice telling him he only wanted to spend his time handing out kudos to them because he was eager to see some of the only people who had been nice to him again, because he was lonely, and even maybe a little because their friendship reminded him of Yugi and the others.

Bakura shrugged slightly to himself. What did it matter if it was borderline pathetic? No one would see his mind except for him, and it was a little late to start worrying about things like appearing pathetic anyway.

Bakura leaned against the wall outside the changing rooms, keeping his eye down to avoid eye contact with the people he didn't know that were now pouring out, all of whom were laughing joyfully, verbally replaying the match to one another. ("Did you see when I did _this_." "Yeah, I did! And what about when I went like _this_...")

As he waited, Bakura started to wonder whether Harry might have already come out.

Frowning slightly at this thought, Bakura tugged at the tassels on his green scarf.

Suddenly, Bakura jumped as someone came charging out of the changing room with his broom over his shoulder. Bakura recognized him as the Griffindor keeper and was a little startled to see that he looked rather angry.

All Bakura could do was blink in confusion and move away. He backed against the wall a little ways off, instinctively trying to remain unnoticed as someone else came storming out soon after.

Hermione looked just as angry as the keeper, but her face was streaked with tears.

Concerned, Bakura started to say something, but stopped himself. He'd almost forgotten that it wasn't his place to comfort these people he didn't know that well.

Harry trailed out not long after that, but the thought of actually speaking to him, let alone congratulating him, didn't even cross Bakura's troubled mind. Bakura just stood there, quietly observing the captain's distress, wanting to say something, but having no idea what he, an outsider, _could_ say that would do any good at all.

...O

Bakura walked slowly back to the castle, dragging his feet as he went, and headed back down into the cold, windowless corridor that led to the common room. He stared at the floor, his heart feeling heavy.

Strange that they would be so upset just after they had won the game. But then, just winning didn't always feel like a victory Bakura knew.

Bakura passed the gloomy, unsmiling faces of the people in his common room and headed into the first year dormitory. He pulled the emerald hangings around his bed closed to get some privacy from his fellow Slytherin first years, all of whom looked just as depressed or more so than the Slytherins in the common room, quiet for once and not full of bravado and snide comments.

Should it even matter to him what could make them so upset? He barely knew them. He'd only met them once after all, maybe twice, if the spirit had met them before. Yet he felt like he did know them. The way their comradery in the library felt as though it was something he knew very well indeed...

Bakura laid back against his pillow, gazing up at that now familiar spot on the ceiling as he continued to think.

When they'd come stomping out of the changing rooms, Bakura had felt how upset they were, that they were hurting. However, at the same time, he had also felt that it was none of his business. The two emotions seemed to war with each other inside him.

It mattered to him, whether it should or not. Because they were like _his _friends, the friends he cared about so much, but would Yugi and the others care to have an outsider intrude on their personal problems, to try to interfere where they didn't belong?

Doubt over what he should do or think about consumed him, as always. That was just how he was. But ultimately, he knew what he would do. The uncertainty was an illusion. Because he knew when it came down to it that they were being nice to him, that it hadn't been an act to include him in their circle.

Their kindness did not mean he could be a friend they turned to in times of stress. He was not a part of their group of friends and he was not a part of this world. This world made of magic wands, flying broomsticks, spell books...

Bakura cut into his own thoughts abruptly. It didn't matter what this worldwas made of. It didn't matter, because Bakura already_ knew_ where he belonged. He belonged in a world of Millennium Items and Shadow Games, a place he understood. No, he did not belong in this bizarre world, alone.

Bakura shut his eye tightly and bit his lip, trying to hold the burning acid now brimming in his eyes back.

He missed Yugi and the others. How he longed to see them and tell them all he had seen in this strange place. About how he traveled by Floo Powder and all the weird things potions could do and the odd little lizards called mokes and... But how long would he have to wait? Chances were, he wouldn't be able to leave before the school year was over in June.

Bakura gave a soft, dry sob. Even then, was there any certainty that the spirit would let him return to Japan? The spirit could make him stay multiple years if he wanted to, and Bakura wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

Bakura rolled over onto his side to stare at the dark emerald curtains, but, try as he might, he could not drown out his thoughts with sounds of the bed shifting underneath him.

Even worse. What if the spirit gained enough power, or discovered some secret spell that ensured his victory. Then he returned to Japan... and _killed_ Yugi with his newfound power?

Bakura wrapped his arms more tightly around himself, and he had no idea what to do.

But the uncertainty was an illusion. He knew what he would do, about it and everything else, as always.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

_'Well,'_ Bakura reasoned with himself, even choking in his own thoughts as he tried once again to hold back that unbidden acid, _'That'll all be a long time from now. A long time. Hopefully...'_

"_**Even the weakest duelist has some reason to fight or believes in something. The only thing that matters is if you let yourself be crushed, or if you can fight to protect those crucial things."**_

Replies to Reviews:

Computerfreak101: Yeah, you and I both will just have to cling to our poor, hopeless dream. ;O;' xD I love that scene too! But if the anime wasn't going to follow up on it, I think they should have done the scene differently and not infer things. D: xD Still. It was Yami Bakura, so it can't be too bad ;D

AnimeLoverAngel: Awww, thanks! :D I never realized how hard it is to write dreams D:

Saffron-Starlight: That's okay! Actually, since it took you so long I guess that means I'm not doing the whole rewrite-the-book-Ryou-instead-of-Harry things, which I was kinda worried about. :D

albino-yaoi: Thanks! :D dreams are so weird, they're hard to write xD

Destiny's Dragon: cool, I can't wait to write more ;D

Karangel: Yess! xD poor Ryou.

Merendin: Thanks! I love cross-overs :D

Thank you everyone for reviewing! (even though I'm being lazy and haven't updated in a while xD )

(first vers. last edited 10/14/2008)


	18. Forbidden Memories

I added an extra scene here at the beginning of this chapter, which I had thought about adding for a long time. I hope this makes the spirit's actions and plans to spend Christmas break make more sense, and seem a little less abrupt.

When I was writing this I was worried about having a scene from an OC's pov, since it may give the impression that he's going to play a bigger role than he's really going to play, but I thought it would be interesting to see Bakura from the point of view of (basically) an uninvolved party.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Surprise! I posted! O: Yeh, I've just been drawing too much lately and haven't worked enough on my fanfictions. XD I keep feeling guilty, but it didn't seem I'd **ever** feel guilty enough. D: I'm really sorry and thanks for being patient, everyone!

Btw, I'm sorry if this chapter's a little confusing or anything; I really liked writing this one because I got to describe all the things I like describing (me: SADIST) and I tried hard to be descriptive, but I dunno if all the parts are understandable. XD You're always free to ask questions of course, but just a reminder ;D

**-18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18 -18**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 18: Forbidden Memories

Enoch Astrava, by far the cleverest of the first year Slytherins this year as far as he was concerned, and the one most capable of thinking ahead, was the first to get up one morning as he usually was. Well, except for the oldest Slytherin first year the school had ever had, who was an utter bumbler if Astrava had ever seen one, who was often an even earlier riser than he was.

As usual, he got up and got dressed before heading to the dorm sink to wash his face and comb his hair. When he turned around and came back, he saw Olseth and the others getting up now, still in their pajamas.

Olseth had already started waving around the copy of the _Daily Prophet_ he'd been enthusiastically showing them all since he'd got it yesterday morning. And all the other boys in their dorm, save the oldest first year, who was now carefully collecting the things that he would need for the day's classes into his bag and even, if Astrava wasn't mistaken, double-checking what was already in there, ever the poster boy for geeks all around the world, crowded around Olseth. As though they hadn't all seen it a dozen times already.

Astrava resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was there anyone else who was getting tired of this bit of old news yet?

"This is so awesome," Olseth enthused. "I mean, now we know for sure what side those dementors are on and they're swooping down all over the place. Listen to this: _'They are even now swooping down like vultures upon unsuspecting muggle establishments before moving on the next target...'_ Looks like they'll deal with the muggle problem and we won't have to do a thing, doesn't it?"

One of the boys snickered and called out his agreement, but the rest glanced at one another, as usual not looking as happy about the news as their roommate.

Olseth seemed to have failed to grasp the fact that not everyone in the dorm was as pro-You-Know-Who as he was. Of course none of them cared about muggles in the least, but with creatures such as dementors, one would have to be an idiot not to be wary of being allies with them, even if you did share a common goal of general despair and suffering for the world. They were loyal to no one absolutely after all and if they did find a reason to turn, they could do unthinkable things to you after all.

But as it turned out, Olseth must have been an idiot as he continued on, "_He_ isn't going to have a problem now. Even without wizards, he has the strongest army imaginable, _and_ it's getting bigger. Says here they're breeding!"

He grinned around at all of them, and again, though one grinned back, the other's expression of agreement looked slightly forced.

Astrava noticed the out of the corner of his eye the older first year hesitating by the door. He ignored him however and, unable to stay quiet anymore, said with a derisive snort, "Moron."

Olseth rounded on him. "What, you afraid?" he demanded. His tone took on a mocking quality. "Aw, maybe we should get you a blanket to hide under then."

Astrava sincerely wondered why the others naturally tended to look toward this person for leadership and said, "No, imbecile, but obvious one good wizard can drive off a hundred dementors if he can conjure a Patronus charm strong enough. Sure they're fine for taking out muggles and little incapable wizards like you, but they can't replace wizards."

Olseth glared. "What's wrong with taking out some muggles?" he asked, ignoring the jab at himself, but clearly missing the point of the argument. He redeemed himself somewhat when he added, "Besides, I don't think very many wizards can drive off a _hundred_ dementors."

"Any trained auror could drive off a lot of them," said Astrava dismissively, deciding not to inform Olseth that his saying 'a hundred' was obviously not meant to be taken literally. "Besides, they're blind. _And _unreliable in terms of loyalty. It's not like they really care about following a wizard's orders, they'll just do whatever they like. Get it?"

He gave Olseth a superior look to top it off and Olseth's mouth, which was normally wide open and moving, closed for once and tightened as though he had tasted something sour.

An argument might have broken out then that Astrava would have most certainly won, though most of his roommates would likely not have had the intellect to recognize it, had not at that a moment a pale hand shot out and snatched the newspaper out of Olseth's hand.

Olseth, only able to think about one thing at a time, seemed to temporarily forget about Astrava's insults and he spun angrily on Ryou Bakura, an Asian name if Astrava was not mistaken. "Hey!"

Astrava also turned to give the older boy a cold look, irritated by this interruption. It seemed he could be united even with a brainless blusterer like Olseth when it came to their mutual dislike of the oddest first year Hogwarts had ever seen.

However, for once he did not look the slightest bit intimidated by the hostile first year Slytherins that surrounded him. Ignoring them entirely, his single eye – what was with that gaudy scarf anyway? – wandering over the front of the article on the page almost idly, the one about the dementors. His expression was almost bland and did not appear to change, yet Astrava thought he did notice a slight, near imperceptible narrowing of his eye.

Astrava remained silent, studying the white-haired teen, certain there was something different about him. It was almost like that first day...

Olseth, oblivious as ever to any detail smaller than where his legs went when putting on his trousers, showed not an ounce of fear of the taller boy as usual and reached for his newspaper, snapping, "Hey, what's your problem? Get your own, Muggle!" The other boys muttered their agreement, like a swarm of wasps ready to descend on their victim.

Expression still bland, the first year merely lifted the paper out of Olseth's reach as he continued to scan its contents.

Astrava held back, not liking this strange look of the older first year. He looked at his other Slytherin first years antagonistic shouts as they surrounded the white-haired boy as though ready to beat him into giving the newspaper back and getting out of their business. The fools – how many times had we warned them near the beginning of the year to tread carefully around this one? But as always they insisted on following Olseth's stupid, loud-mouth lead.

Sure, it appeared as though his suspicions were not founded, especially with this boy's typically timid and non-confrontational demeanor. But that could all just be an act – the more Astrava thought about it, the more convinced he was that no matter how timid or inept he pretended to be, he had been put in Slytherin for a reason. To come to this school so late, it was mysterious; he must have some hidden purpose.

And until they found out what that purpose was, if they ever found out at all, Astrava knew it was best to be careful around him, not to do something to push him too far. Snide comments were one thing, but constant haranguing, though luckily Olseth had mainly tired of that for awhile at least, and such blatantly open hostility were simply not wise.

Suddenly, a slight smile flashed across the teen's lips, just for an instant. The expression was unsettling, definitely not the usual timid smile Astrava saw when he was returning a greeting to a gaggle of third-year girls in the Great Hall during meals. His mouth silently formed a single word, and Astrava realized that it was the name of one of the towns that had been mentioned in the article as being attacked.

Olseth's already extremely limited supply of patience had completely run out by this time it seemed and he was just pulling back a fist when Bakura suddenly tossed the paper back to Olseth, who had to scrambled to catch it in his surprise.

Not in the least bit mollified, Olseth spun and said challengingly, "Hey, don't think you can just – "

But just as quickly as he'd jumped in the middle of the scene, he exited it, and was already gone from the dorm room by the time Olseth had spoken.

"Whatever," said Astrava placatingly. "Who cares about him, he's just jealous. He just _wishes_ he could be included."

"Yeah," said Olseth, finding the insult satisfying enough keep him doing anything reckless for now, and he soon went back to what he had been saying about the dementors, apparently having forgotten Astrava's earlier slight as well.

Astrava turned away to look at the place where the first year had disappeared to through the door, thinking. Yes, there had to be more to that one than met the eye...

_Eye_. Astrava suddenly smirked. Yes, he ought to be cautious, but he had to admit he was intrigued. Just how far could they push the odd first year before he cracked and gave up him charade?

But, that was a question to be explored another day. For now, he would just have to continue to rely on casual observations to satisfy his curiosity.

...O

As the Christmas holiday approached, Bakura continued to try and get on top of his work. He really wanted to finish beforehand, so he could have the whole time to relax and read, but he had found it hard to keep his mind on his work lately.

Of course, Bakura had originally toyed with the idea of going home to Domino over the holiday break, but then he realized that the spirit would probably not want him to leave. For one thing, the spirit would no doubt want to keep Bakura separated from Yugi and the others as long as possible, so that they wouldn't find out about the new kind of magic. Besides, how would he find his way back to the school once he left? No, the spirit would never sanctify such a request.

But Bakura was determined to have a nice Christmas anyway. He enjoyed the decorations of holly and mistletoe that lined the hallways, though he made it a point to avoid the mistletoe as much as possible, and the twelve beautifully adorned Christmas trees in the Great Hall.

Plus, many had Professor Slughorn's Christmas party to look forward to. Bakura had not been invited as it was only for those in a special club of which Bakura was not a part, so this did not apply to him, but as he overheard multiple times the excited talk of those who _were_ going, he was probably about as informed about it as any on the invitation lists.

Bakura was not especially jealous or disappointed however, never having had much interest in those kinds of parties. He would've taken a night with a group of close friends playing rpg games all night any day. Besides, it would be an excellent time to get the rest of his homework done while the common room was less crowded than usual.

So, when the night of the Christmas party rolled around, the night before the winter break was to begin, [?] Bakura situated himself in the common room in one of the tall-backed chairs next to the fire just as those invited to the party were leaving.

Bakura usually didn't like being in the common room as he would rather avoid those people who tended to stop and gape as his long white hair and his creepy black scarf, whispering feverishly and loudly all the while, or else make a snide remark behind his back about wondering what a muggle was doing at Hogwarts, but luckily for him most of those people had gone to the party.

Bakura rubbed his hands together and extended them toward the fire for a moment, trying to warm his stiff fingers enough to write. The dungeons were the worst part of the castle during the winter because they were underground, but by this time Bakura had gotten used to seeing his breath coming out in thick white clouds down here whenever he got too far from the fire.

After a while, Bakura reluctantly pulled his hands away and picked up his quill.

He worked diligently, only pausing every now and again to warm his hands again. Eventually, everyone still lingering in the common room finally went up to bed, leaving Bakura alone.

With the soothing quiet but for the crackling of the fire and the warmth of the fire against his face, Bakura eventually began to doze off and on, able to pay less and less attention to his work as the night wore on. However, he was jarred from his sleepy stupor when someone came storming into the common room.

Bakura shook his head and rubbed his eyes, trying to rouse himself as he looked up to see Malfoy stomp across the room to the dormitories, not saying a word.

Bakura glanced up at the clock. It was a little earlier than one would expect for someone to be returning from the party, but then, maybe that was Malfoy's usual suspicious behavior coupled with Bakura's lack of sleep talking.

Bakura sighed deeply and stretched. Yes, it was too late to be thinking about these things. He ought to go to bed now. He'd have plenty of time to finish his homework over the holiday after all.

He sighed deeply and headed wearily up to the dormitories.

...O

The next morning, however, homework was the last thing on the pale, white-haired teen's mind.

His muddy-brown eye snapped open and his pale hands unclenched from the bed sheets, his breath coming a little faster than normal. Without moving his head, his eye traveled to the clock sitting next to his bed. A small smile crossed his lips.

_'Finally it is late enough to go,'_ thought the teen. Silently, he shifted from where he lay into a crouch, then stepped off the bed, the springs miraculously not making so much as a sound. He went to his trunk, rummaging around as quietly as he could as he tried not to wake his Slytherin House mates, until he found the clothes he wanted to wear, though it took him a little while as they'd been dumped practically at the bottom.

He strode out of his dorm and through the common room, taking a vague note of the fact that it was still deserted. Outside, he navigated the dungeon corridors quickly and, a short while later, reached his destination.

As he entered the room, his eye swept over the office, taking in the many jars of various pickled animals that lined the shelves. Finally, his gaze fell on the greasy-haired Professor sitting behind his desk, grading papers.

When it didn't seem the Professor was going to pay him any mind, the white-haired boy pulled out his wand and turned to face the empty fireplace.

"_Incendio!_"

Amidst a shower of gold and black sparks, flames leaped from the wand into the fireplace and a steady fire came to life.

At this the Professor did look up, the barest hint of surprise on his face.

The teen ignored him however and instead reached into the glass jar sitting up on the mantel, removing a handful of glittering dust. He cast the dust over the fire and the flames instantly became a vibrant shade of emerald.

The teen paused to glance over his shoulder at the Professor, whose gaze had now drifted down to the boy's attire, the slightest sneer curling his lips.

The teen took no notice and instead said in a soft, almost mocking tone, "Happy Holidays to you, Professor."

With that, he stepped without the hesitation into the emerald flames, leaving Snape to puzzle over the shy student's strange behavior, as he had no doubt been doing all along.

Moments later, he emerged from a second fireplace, stepping out onto a linoleum floor. The intruder brushed ashes off himself and surveyed the inside of the empty house. He took off, creeping and swiftly through the room toward the door, his footfalls as silent and careful as those of some great cat going on the prowl, as though he suspected there may be a hidden alarm that might sound.

Not that he was worried – any fool could see the complete lack of security this house held. He eyed the still forms sprawled across the living room couch as he passed it, and a faint grin flickered across his lips. His brown eye caught the dim morning light filtering in through one of the front windows from which the glass had been blow out, shards scattered like flower petals across the floor around it, and the eye seemed to glow almost red so that for a moment one might have thought that this slight teenager was some kind of predatory animal in human form.

The teen stepped out of the house and a blast of icy cold wind hit him in the face, flaring his long black trench coat out behind him. He didn't flinch, his cold eye looking almost pleased. He set off down the deserted street, straight into the early morning darkness and thick blanket of icy blue fog.

It was too bad... His host had had his heart_ so_ set on staying at Hogwarts for Christmas he knew, but it couldn't be helped. The spirit of the Millennium Ring had things to do.

So this was the place where these so-called 'dementors' had attacked civilians and decimated the town, was it? That much was clear from the deserted streets and silent, empty houses that lined them.

Of course, the chances that this 'Dark Lord' would actually be here were slim to none, but his servants' presence here made it a good place to start if he really did wish to meet this 'One-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.' Perhaps he would be able to extract some information from these creatures about their master, one way or another.

The spirit suddenly caught something moving out of the corner of his eye and he whipped around, glaring hard. His brow furrowed. There wasn't anything there. But –

He suddenly gave an involuntary shudder and exhaled sharply, his breath coming out in a thick white sheet. Even for it being so early in the morning, the temperature drop had been quite abrupt.

He scanned the deserted street, looking for any sign of life. He couldn't let these 'servants of the Dark Lord' take him by surprise. He had to be the one to make the first –

But his thoughts were interrupted as a sudden, ghastly cry erupted from somewhere deep in his chest, tearing out through his lips. The sound seemed to be immediately muted and drowned in a deadly silence that came over everything. He doubled over clutching his chest, his hands groping at the cold metal of his Millennium Ring underneath his shirt.

Something was oppressing him, literally sucking his will and life force from his body. Were these overwhelming feelings of helplessness coming from the 'dememtors'? Creatures that were said to freeze the very air they breathed on and suck the cheer and happiness from everyone they approached...

He moved his head sluggishly, gazing around through foggy vision in an attempt to see what their current position was and what they looked like. He did not see the dementors, however. Only –

_A red dragon, towering above him..._

"_When Slifer attacks, you'll die."_

_'It's really over, there's nothing I can do.'_

"_Brace yourself, Bakura!"_

A strange feeling overtook him. Words and images were flooding his mind – memories so real that he ought to have been saying how impossible it was were eating him from the inside out. Was it even a possibility that they were merely flashbacks?

The spirit shook his head. _'No. No, they're...' _ He lifted his head at last, though it felt as heavy as iron. For just a moment he could see the empty gravel road stretching out before him again. And when he did, something else appeared there, blocking his path. An entire battalion of... _things_.

Faces completely hidden under the hood of long filthy cloaks and hands that were nothing but dead flesh, these were the very image of soul-sucking monsters. They floated eerily over the ground toward him and he felt his chest grow heavier with every inch they covered.

_'Dementors,'_ he thought vaguely.

He opened his mouth to speak to them, that was why he was here after all, but his words died on his tongue and his mind went blank. He could not think.

_A flaming phoenix hovering above his head, its desire to strike, to utterly destroy him evident in its empty, black eyes..._

The spirit brought a tremulous hand to his forehead. _'I must... master myself...' _

The spirit let out another sudden, sharp cry, but this one broke through the blanket of quiet that hung over everything. Instead of the fear and numbness that had been slowly creeping over his whole being, he now gasped in pain, doubling over once again. Before, it had almost been like his strength was being sucked out of him, exhaustion so complete that he felt like he could just go to sleep and never wake up again. But now – !

He gritted his teeth. Something was trying to force its way out – something that wasn't being sucked out, but _wanted _out. His insides were on fire, thousands of poison needles stabbing him from the inside out.

Where? Where was this coming from? It wasn't those beasts' power alone the spirit was sure, but then – ?

"_Prepare yourself, Zorc, you fiend!"_

He pressed a hand against his temple and gritted his teeth. Blood spurted out from between them as he bit down hard on his cheek to prevent another scream.

The hooded creatures moved closer, the pain intensifying with every inch. If he hadn't been in such anguish, he might have sensed their confusion.

Splotches of color danced in front of his vision, shifting and melding together as things grew darker. Was he blacking out? The spirit fell hard to his knees, taking several deep breaths in relief as the pain abruptly receded. He didn't how or why, but he was sure that something had given. Like a dam building up water had suddenly broken and the pressure was now utterly gone. He didn't have time to think about it as his senses were suddenly assaulted with another wave of violent flashbacks.

_A giant monster stood before him, its armor-like skin a dangerous electric blue._

"_Bow before the gods, Bakura!" shouted a man, who stood underneath the giant blue god._

"_Diabound, destroy Obelisk!" the spirit shouted, an emotion he had almost forgotten pounding in his heart..._

"What?" asked the spirit thickly, the eerie silence from the dementors settling over everything once again. "What? When... When did...?"

"_Bakura, I'll show you how flimsy your 'justice' is... with the iron fist of a god!"_

"No..." _'No...!'_

But he couldn't stop the flood of memories, foreign memories that he knew nothing of, yet were all too familiar.

"_Filthy thieves!"_

"_Your bones will make the great treasures!"_

_A giant mold, a bright, golden liquid. A hundred pathetic voices, crying for mercy..._

"Please... please...!" gasped the spirit, not sure what he was saying or what he wanted as his soul drowned in forgotten misery. He kept his head down, his hands clenched against the rough gravel ground, unaware of the hooded creatures slowly getting closer.

"_Your flesh will save the kingdom!"_

"_Die!"_

"_DIE!"_

_The sound of spears piercing flesh..._

"No... _No_!"

Blinding light exploded from his chest and his entire body spasmed with pain, but this time, he felt a very different feeling along with the pain. He felt a new, terrifying strength that he had not known for three thousand years.

The light from his chest suddenly darkened, and became as black as night. The formless, black shape broke away from his body and the spirit went still, his eye closing as he breathed deeply.

The hooded creatures hesitated, not sure what to make of this new presence.

The spirit opened his eye, staring at the ground. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, keeping his head bowed with his long white hair keeping the look in his eye concealed. Breathing hard, he lifted his head to gaze at the creatures. The spirit's eye narrowed and he clenched his teeth, a quiet, dangerous hiss escaping from between them.

"Die," he whispered hoarsely.

The moment this word left his mouth, the entire world seemed to twist out of proportion and all sense or reason was overcome as the giant shadow hovering above his head suddenly moved, so fast it seemed to suddenly vanish, then reappear right before the cold army. It slashed its deadly claws at the hooded creatures, and a beam of electric blue energy exploded from the snake-like jaws on the beast's tail, scattering them every which way.

Then the shadow suddenly went very still once more, like a coiled snake waiting for an opportunity for a second strike.

The dementors drew back and a soft hissing sound made its way around the circle, almost as if they were whispering amongst themselves. They waited and when the shadow did not attack again, they started forward once more, moving directly toward the spirit.

The spirit could feel the cold, clammy fog trying to creep its way into his chest, but that wasn't going to work twice. No... he would not have it.

The spirit's pupil shrunk as he said a second time, a little louder, "Die." He breathed deeply, his chest aching. He _knew_... He _remembered_... Suddenly, he found he could not stop himself and he roared, voice tearing through the stifling quiet, "Die! _Die!_" His face was contorted with fury and hatred as the giant black beast above him slashed at the hundreds of wraiths again, the air itself on fire as the humanoid figure with it's snake-like lower body invoked its awesome powers at its master's bidding.

Realizing for the first time the power that their prey, which had a moment before been completely helpless, the dementors turned and fled, as frightened and pathetic as pheasants at the sound of a gunshot. As the last one glided eerily over the deserted street and out of sight, the shadowy beast faded from sight as well, its monstrous outline remaining in the blue fog for a fraction of a second before that faded too.

The spirit simply stood there, breathing heavily in the cold, morning air. He dug his fingernails into his palm and blood trickled down onto the ground, but the spirit took no notice. There was only one feeling he had room to acknowledge now, only one feeling that really mattered...

He shuddered, both from the aftereffects of icy cold from the wraiths that had pierced his chest earlier and, for the first time, the barest hint of excitement. He breathed deeply.

"_What is 'justice'?"_

"_What is evil?"_

He lifted his head to gaze up at the sky, his breathing still coming in short gasps.

"_Soon this city, too, will drown in blood, and you will be the one to spill it..."_

The spirit's eye narrowed suddenly. He reached up and touched the black, silk scarf, fingering the hard metal underneath, as he remembered all those things he'd once said, so long ago. "And you will be the one..." The spirit lifted his head to the heavens and he started to smirk, but a sudden rush of black emotion flooded through his chest and his lip curled into a snarl.

"I know now," said the spirit quietly. "I know..." The black flames rose up suddenly and seized him completely. He clenched his teeth, his eye blazing.

"I know now, Pharaoh! Are you listening? I know and I'll never rest until you..." He trailed off gazing at the dark sky, the the first rays of morning light just beginning to show on the horizon, their colors of fire and blood staining the sky.

"Until you are..." He dropped his gaze to his injured hand, just now choosing to acknowledge it. Small trails of red blood ran along the lines of the hand, like so many minute rivers. His lips curled into a twisted smile, his eye alight with a perverse glee at the color.

He took his other hand and began digging his fingernails even deeper into the small wounds, making them wider and deeper. His eye narrowed and his face dissolved into a cold glare, his gaze going past his hand.

His head snapped upward as he tore his eye away. He spun around, his trench coat flaring behind him and started off down the street. As he went, he flicked his hand, leaving the ground stained with small droplets of crimson liquid.

He frowned as he collected his thoughts. No matter how his emotions changed, becoming stronger than before, no matter how it much it changed who he had thought he was, this event would now become his advantage. This blindingly powerful emotion would make him stronger... and he _would_ control it.

He had more power now than he'd ever realized he could obtain, short of possessing all the Items. So right now, the smart thing to do would be to just return to the school and spend the rest of vacation there, waiting for the right time to invoke his plan.

Yes, he could not afford to be hasty. Not now... when the means of winning this game were finally in his grasp.

"_**The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."**_

DOOM! Yeh, so... we got to see Yami Bakura again! That's good isn't it? -:D

Btw, the thing where Yami Bakura goes to Snape's office and uses Floo Powder; that's supposed to be kind of like when Harry uses the floo powder and Professor McGonagall's fireplace at Christmas to leave (or was he returning? Can't remember; it's been too long since I read it xD ), so for this story, the students use their Head of House fireplace to leave (even though I suspect it's a Head Mistress thing, in which case all the students would use McGonagall's fireplace, D: but I wanted it to be Snape). Yeh, you guys probably couldn't care less, but I wanted to say it anyway ;D

Replies to reviews:

albino-yaoi: yaya! I'm glad. Heee, it's sooo interesting you say that... hold onto that thought ;D

AnimeLoverAngel: awww I hope you feel better. D:- (my sister was sick for a whole week too; why does this happen in the middle of summer? D: xD) Yep! You're right about that; poor, poor Bakura.

Computerfreak101: LOLOL, Yessss xDDD! Well, ffnet deletes my arrow symbols, my colons when they're next to certain things, etc, etc. So D's are pretty much the only face-makers I have left. DDDD: xDDD

Yep! Ryou doesn't have any magic (it's my excuse for why he wasn't ever invited to Hogwarts) Aghh, terrorizing students! I knew I'd left something out. D: Maybe I'll do a fanart instead someday...

Yeh, I know! What a lame way to go out. D: But still, I was a lot sadder when he merged with Zorc and we didn't get to see him again or hear his sexy voice. Even at the end, when Zorc finally lost, you didn't get to see or hear him. DDD: That was sooo messed up.

Saffron-Starlight: I think I'd better just confirm that Ryou is, in fact, magic-less. Just so I don't get anyone's hopes up D: Poor, poor Ryou.

cgflower: yep, Harry and co. finally come into the picture (if only briefly).

Thank you sooo much! :DDDD

Twin Tails Speed: thanks! :D

Noon6: thanks! Yeh, I pity Bakura too D:

Thank you to everyone who reviewed, times a million! I really appreciate it!

Yeh, so... please remember to r and r. :D

(last edited 10/14/2008)


	19. Rage and Blackmail

Here's chapter nineteen :D. I wanted to update again before I had to go back to school...

**-19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19 -19**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 19: Rage and Blackmail

On that morning of December the twenty-fifth, darkness covered the grounds of Hogwarts castle. Looming shadows seeming to twist and roll about in the early morning mist until finally a small sliver of light that broke over the edge of the horizon, bringing warmth.

However, even the light of day wasn't enough to penetrate the ancient building's depths and deep within the dungeons was one Slytherin in particular that could only toss and turn restlessly, trapped in the bowels of his own nightmares...

"_Filthy thieves!"_

The boy rolled over, curling in on himself, his eye shut tight and his hands over his ears as though he could block out the words and images that plagued him.

"_Wait – don't kill me – !"_

Mindless slaughter of people that begged for mercy, blood running in the streets... But why? _Why?_

_Screams of pain, hate, and fear seemed to split his head and he covered his ears to shut them out. Yet he feared more than anything that approach of silence, a silence more horrible than any scream._

_A giant cauldron sat right in the center of the destruction, like an idol before an alter of bloody sacrifice to some cruel god, the surface of its contents glittering with a deceptively beautiful golden light. _

"_No, please!"_

_But the term 'mercy' had no meaning to the mindless army of soldiers that simply continued to march, their spears pointed forward. Sharp flint spears, tipped with the blood of what had once been someone's neighbor, friend, sibling, parent, child... _

"_Worthless scum! This is your punishment for robbing graves!"_

Ryou Bakura awoke with a start. He sat up, breathing heavily, his sweaty hands clenched against his bed sheets. He shot frantic looks this way and that, all around at the familiar surroundings. Same emerald hangings, same bed sheets.

Bakura pressed a hand against his chest, trying to slow the beating of his heart. His breath came in short gasps, small beads of sweat rolling down his face. He shook his head to clear it and tried to breathe more normally. It had all been a dream. Only a dream.

"Ugh..." he mumbled aloud, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. He felt sick. What a horrible nightmare to have, and especially over the holidays.

As he calmed down a little he shook his head and again, wondering at what a vivid imagination he had. Such clear images of gore and carnage, and to have come upon him so suddenly. What had it been about again? There were a bunch of soldiers and... was it a mold? Or no, it had been a cauldron – The people were being melted down –

Bakura bent as his head spun, feeling a little sick again. It would probably be better if he tried to forget the whole thing altogether. Though with his luck, this would probably be the one dream that would wind up burned into his memory. He could never remember dreams when he wanted to remember them.

Sighing and grimacing slightly, he noticed for the first time how much his head hurt. His skin felt cold and clammy and even his arm and leg muscles ached a bit, as though he'd slept on them wrong or exercised a little too hard the day before.

He shook his head again, deciding not to dwell on it. The dream must have affected him more than he'd thought. He winced as the palm of his hand brushed against his sheets and he noticed a rather new-looking scab. Perhaps that had happened during the night too. It really had been some nightmare it seemed.

He shrugged and started to pull back the covers as he prepared to get out of bed, then stopped. He slowly directed his attention downward.

Letting out a soft cry, Bakura threw the covers violently aside and leaped out of bed. He stared with wide eyes at his clothing.

The same black trench coat that he'd been wearing when he'd first arrived at this place and the faded gray jeans he'd been wearing the day he had first woken up at this school met his eye. But, he thought, thatwould mean...

Bakura glanced about the dormitory for some clue to help confirm – or, better yet, refute – the conclusion that was now beginning to form in his mind. Wrong clothes, sore limbs... what else?

Bakura glanced over at the clock. It was still pretty early in the day. Could whatever the spirit gone and done been confined to the middle of the night?

Frowning a little, Bakura glanced around the room again and noticed that the beds of the others were all empty, their trunks all gone. Today was the day they were supposed to leave, but it was too early for everyone to have left already, even Astrava, who sometimes got up even before he did.

Bakura groaned slightly as a thought occurred to him. He went over to the astronomy calendar Astrava had hung on the wall with all its images of faraway planets and stars. He winced as he saw the neat red check mark next to the twenty-four.

Just as he'd thought. He must have missed an entire day, but he wondered exactly what the spirit had been doing during that time. Sealing the souls of students in lead figurines? Playing fatal Shadow Games with the Professors?

Bakura slumped forward and placed his head in his hands. It could be anything. Suddenly, he found himself recalling the time back in September when the spirit had informed him of everything going on. Was it possible the spirit would tell him everything again? Or at least some of it. Maybe it was a slim chance, but he had to try; there wouldn't be any harm in that. Probably.

"Spirit...?" Bakura called tentatively. "Spirit, are you there?" Bakura fingered the Millennium Ring under his shirt nervously as he just sat there, waiting. But it seemed a vain wait as he was only answered with silence. The spirit had to tell him_ something_. How else would Bakura know how to act around everyone now without being suspicious?

"Spirit?" Bakura said again, but still there came no answer. Disappointed, Bakura went ahead and climbed to his feet, so that he could prepare to go down to breakfast. He hadn't had much of an appetite when he'd first woken up, but now he felt almost faint from hunger, like he hadn't eaten for a whole day. Probably hadn't, in fact. Bakura would guess spirits probably didn't notice or care that much about the physical.

Despite this, for the first time that morning a small smile spread across his lips. Even if it was a long shot, the spirit's silence gave him a little hope as well. Maybe this meant the spirit hadn't done anything drastic enough to make everyone think him too strange – well, stranger than they already thought he was.

Or else his activity had been a secret from everyone but his victim.

Bakura bit his lip and decided to turn his attention to ripping off the hideous trench coat in favor of a fresh pair of his normal robes. He had already started toward the door when he was struck with a sudden thought. He spun around to look at the date on the calendar a second time. Everyone had been supposed to leave on the day of Christmas Eve, the twenty-fourth. So if Bakura had missed that day, that meant...

Bakura dashed into the nearly empty common room, barely taking notice of a sick-looking Malfoy flanked by his two goons as usual just coming out of his own dormitory as Bakura ran out into the corridor.

Bakura stopped just outside and inhaled the cold air deeply, before making his way up the icy hallway in a more dignified fashion toward the staircase that led to the Great Hall. Bakura tilted his head back and sighed, allowing himself the tiniest of smiles despite everything.

Christmas Day. He couldn't say for sure why this day would make him feel happy. After all, he didn't have a single present and not one of his friends were within a hundred miles of his present location, but still, there was something about this day that only came once a year. This day of family of peace...

Bakura stepped into the Great Hall and was a little surprised to see that all four long tables were gone with only a single table situated in the center of the room. There were more teachers than students, but the students that were there were sitting intermingled with the teachers.

"Ah, Mr. Bakura," said Professor McGonagall, the first to take notice of the Slytherin first year.

Bakura turned his attention to her. "Yes, Professor?" he said, a little nervously as he recalled that he couldn't remember what he'd been doing the previous day. Perhaps he was just about to get laid out about whatever it was he had done that he didn't know about in front of everyone.

But she just turned to look at one of the other teachers sitting nearby and said, eyebrow raised, "Professor Snape, you said something about him being gone for the holidays?"

"He indeed left yesterday morning, via the Floo Network," said Professor Snape quietly. He observed Bakura suspiciously from behind curtains of his black hair.

Bakura directed his attention to the space of floor in front of the table as he felt Professor Snape's gaze upon him and squirmed uncomfortably. But besides his discomfort, he also had a small feeling of relief. The spirit had left the school so, chances were, whatever the spirit had wanted to do had not involved anyone he knew at Hogwarts.

Perhaps, dare he hope, the spirit had even left without interacting with anyone in school at all except for Professor Snape of course who couldn't have known he'd left otherwise. Bakura would be glad to not have to hear about any more students showing up who'd gone into comas under mysterious circumstances.

"But he must have returned sometime yesterday evening, before transportation through the Floo Network was cut off," McGongall pressed Snape, looking back over at Bakura.

"No, he did not," said Snape, not taking his piercing black eyes off Bakura, who continued to carefully avoid the Professor's gaze.

"Are you sure he couldn't have returned while you happened to not be in your office?" Professor McGonagall asked, not ready to give up yet. "Mr. Bakura," she said, changing her strategy and turning to the student in question. "Did you return through the Floo Network?"

"Uh," Bakura said, not knowing what to say as he had no way of knowing himself.

"I was in my office all day," said Snape curtly, lip curling.

"Well..." Professor McGonagall began, looking somewhat confused. She said eventually, "...I suppose it's not of exceptional importance." She saw the look on Professor Snape's face and wisely decided to drop the matter, though not because she was intimidated, but likely because she did not want to appear inappropriately stubborn in front of the students.

"In any case," she said, turning back to Bakura. "We have someone we want you to meet, Mr. Bakura. It would seem we have another with a situation similar to yours. Another... _late-starter_." Professor McGonagall moved over slightly so as to let Bakura see a certain small person sitting on her other side.

Bakura had to blink several times, and even then he could not fully comprehend it.

"Hi!" said the boy, beaming.

Bakura started to smile back, but then stopped. His chocolate-brown eye blackened and narrowed until it was nothing more than a slit, crimson flickering in its tunneling depths. His entire body went rigid and he felt his heart pumping in his throat, blood pounding right behind each of his eyes.

The memories he'd regained the previous day flashed through his mind and he spun around to face the giant doors of the Great Hall, his breathing coming in quick, rasping gasps.

There were too many witnesses, he told himself. He could not afford to lose control and show his true self to all of them right now. It was not time yet, it would be a waste of effort to try to kill _him_ right at this moment, however much the spirit might want to. The timing was not favorable right now, and besides, he could still use the Pharaoh to do some of his dirty work, while he prepared.

The spirit cursed mentally, his teeth clenched. What, in Ra's name, washe doing here _now_? Of all places, and of all the times...! He must have planned it somehow – or perhaps it was simply fate?

The spirit forced himself to keep his voice even as he said as politely as he could manage, "I'm sorry, but... I'm not feeling well all of a sudden. I-I think I need go back upstairs..." He put the tremor in his voice just for good measure.

"Wait a moment, Mr. Bakura. I wanted to introduce you to Yugi Mutou first – " Although the spirit could not see it, Professor McGonagall was frowning at his back. She'd only caught a glimpse of it for an instant, so brief that she wondered now if she had imagined it, but what could have engendered such a incredible look of despise on the face of someone who was normally so gentle?

Professor Snape's expression also bore a slight hint of surprise and he silently took note of how similar Bakura had looked to the time when they'd first met and when he'd been leaving the school via Floo Powder. He switched from being so shy and respectful, to sneering and confident so quickly and easily. And he had been that way when they had first met as well, though Snape had soon passed it off after some experience with the boy as his imagination.

"Pleased to meet you..." The spirit's voice dropped dangerously as he finished, "Yugi."

"Nice to meet you as well," came the reply, though its friendliness was even more strained than the spirit's. The Pharaoh was in control.

The spirit's pupil shrunk and he clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms. He did not flinch even as he reopened his wound from yesterday, but used all the will-power he possessed to force himself to walk calmly away.

As stiff as a board, he reached the very edge of the hall, standing between the giant open doors. He turned his head to one side and, though his face had an almost natural expression, one hate-filled eye found the face of the Pharaoh sitting down among the teachers. The pharaoh did not flinch, but stared right back at the spirit, almost challengingly.

Their eyes remained locked for several seconds before the spirit finally tore his gaze away and he vanished beyond the entrance to the Great Hall, leaving a room of confused staff members and one wary pharaoh.

As soon as he was out of view, the spirit allowed his whole face to contort with fury and he hissed through his teeth. He leaned back against the stone wall next to the doors of the Great Hall and clenched his fists, his entire body shaking.

The timing for the pharaoh's sudden appearance could not be worse. The spirit's heart had only just remembered the hatred he'd so carefully nurtured back in his other life. He had for the longest time only known a cold, emotionless evil. He still neededmore time to adjust, so that he could feel the control over himself as he had had back _then_.

But of course as usual, his _Highness_ just had a certain irritating way of appearing and interfering at just the wrong moment. His self-righteous, pompous rival of three thousand years...

Filled with adrenaline, the spirit sped down the marble staircase and along the corridor that led to the common room, ready to twist the life of anything that got in his way with his bare hands.

"Inferus!" the spirit snarled and, not waiting for the hidden doorway to finish opening, stormed into the common room.

Like that morning, Malfoy and his goons were still the only ones in the common room. "You were sure in a hurry when you left," said Malfoy, sneering despite his own sickly appearance. "What an idiot as usual, probably forgot some – "

He stopped mid-taunt as the spirit's attention snapped to the Slytherin sixth-year. Standing in the doorway, with his bared his teeth and blazing eye, the white-haired teen looked positively demonic.

Malfoy didn't miss the livid countenance of the other boy and blinked, apparently at a loss for words. But he wasn't about to start being intimidated by the practically-muggle first year, and he frowned back at the spirit, almost challengingly.

The spirit hissed through his teeth and he raised his clenched fist, the veins in his wrist tense, squeezing as though holding up a small squirming animal as trophy. The blood from his scratch started to collect at the edges, tainted dewdrops that stretched off the side of his palm. His crimson eye narrowed, daring the other boy to give him a reason to rip his pathetic mortal soul apart.

Despite himself, Malfoy was suddenly nervous. He broke eye contact, a bead of sweat breaking out on his face. He turned to his two goons and muttered, "Come on Crabbe, Goyle. We got stuff to do." Malfoy stood up, suppressing a shudder as he walked past the spirit to get to the hidden door, as though he could feel the malevolent aura as a tangible force. His two goons quickly followed suit and left behind him.

The moment Malfoy had exited the common room, the spirit stormed across the room and down to the dormitories. The door banged open and he grabbed hold of the emerald hangings around his bed. He gritted his teeth and clenched the curtains hard, tempted to tear them all down in a fit of rage.

The spirit's grip tightened and he ground his teeth. But then his fingers relaxed their grip and he pulled away from the hangings just to stand next to the bed for a moment, his breathing still coming hard.

He growled under his breath, holding all his anger in, encouraging it to grow and fester inside him.

Without warning, the spirit fell hard to his hands and knees. He roared furiously and struck the hard stone floor of the dungeon with all his might. But he abruptly went still once more and, ignoring the pain in his hand, he went back to trying to hold all his anger. His teeth clenched, he stayed there with his forehead pressed against the cold stone, his eye level below that of his quaking fist which rested on the floor before. He did not move, except for the ferocious quivering that wracked his frame as he fought to contain it all.

He closed his eye, the images of the pharaoh and all the spirit hated him for flashing behind it in the darkness. He wanted to remember every detail, wanted his hate for his enemy to consume every fiber of his being, and for those flames of hatred to never go out. When he finally destroyed his counterpart that lived within the Millennium Puzzle, he wanted his satisfaction to be without measure...

His anger seemed to grow with every memory. He recalled the Pharaoh's arrogance and his constant declaration that "justice" was on his side. He thought of Kul Elna and the soldiers telling his fellow villagers that they all deserved to die – every man, woman, and child.

Unable to control it, the spirit found himself being hit with one wave of hatred after another. He clutched at his head, his whole body writhing in agony. _This pain...!_ It was far worse than the physical pain he'd endured just before his memories had returned to him. This was the pain of hatred and anger – like the flames of Hell itself burning inside him. Deadly poison was pumping through his veins, a great monster trying to rip and tear its way out of his chest...

Some small part of him wanted it to stop, for the pain to end. But he found he didn't have the will. Boundless hatred wrapped itself around his heart and as it gained control, it made him want more. More hatred. Let him have more.

The spirit's whole body twisted and he clawed at the ground like a wild animal, roaring incomprehensibly, his voice hoarse.

After what seemed like an eternity, the adrenaline began to fade and his movements slowed. Finally his body gave out on him and, taking one last deep breath, finally laid still.

The spirit rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath, his whole body feeling as though it had just run a marathon. His violent attack of anger had left him, and now he felt nothing but exhausted.

Staring at nothing, the spirit simply laid there for a long time, empty and lethargic, the cold of the stone floor seeming to crawl over his entire body, seeping into his bones.

Finally, he managed to drag himself to his feet, and took those few steps that allowed him to collapse onto his four poster bed, arms spread apart like he was making a snow angel, like they were little more than useless rag appendages. He laid on the bed for a long while in complete silence, his eye automatically going to his host's favorite spot on the ceiling as he thought things over.

He hadn't realized it was possible to be so full of violent emotion. He had been angry before of course, but this was a different creature entirely, so hard to control. Like trying to keep lassoed a beast several times bigger than oneself.

He could not indulge himself in the future as he had done just now. Back _then_, he'd been used to his hatred. It had been with him all the time after all, he'd grown up with. But right now, after being cold and apathetic for so long, he still needed to re-accustomed himself to it.

But even as a small bead of sweat ran down his face, he slowly smirked. Not _all_ of his memories had been full of anger, sadness, and hatred. The pharaoh was in for a nasty surprise. For getting his own memories back had done more than just give him his hatred and his powers of three thousand years ago.

Slowly, the spirit reached up and touched the scarf wrapped around his head, his hard breathing beginning to ebb.

Back in Egypt, he had sealed a piece of his evil will via the Millennium Ring into the Millennium Eye in order to bring one of the Pharaoh's loyal priests to _his_ side. Now that he, the spirit of the Millennium Ring, was the wielder of Millennium Eye, he could call upon that piece of his soul to have complete, _utter_ control of its power.

He no longer needed to waste his time in developing and practicing with its power – what had taken Pegasus _years_ to master had become his overnight. Now then... what would the pharaoh say when he realized he had to face a master of mind-reading all over again?

However...

The spirit frowned at the ceiling, thinking. He was in a favorable position now, but he had to make sure he didn't make the same mistakes Pegasus had made. For one, maybe it would be best if the pharaoh _not _know about his new weapon just yet.

But there was a problem. Because of course no doubt his worthless host would want to tell him.

The spirit's lip flickered and twitched into an almost smile, despite how drained his body felt. Well, he couldn't have _that_, now could he? There were plenty of ways to make his host do what he wanted. But... which way would be the easiest and the most effective?

The spirit's eye wandered to the empty beds of Bakura's House mates and he felt some of his dark creativity returning. It was obvious, really. Those who invariably believed themselves to be 'the god guys' were so predictable.

_/Wake up, Vessel!-/_ the spirit snapped as he threw his host unceremoniously back into the world of consciousness.

"...What?" came Bakura's first question, his quiet voice echoing slightly in the empty dormitory. He examined his hand, frowning at the dried blood and the stinging red spots.

Pleased with his host's confused and frightened tone of voice, he didn't answer right away, wanting to savor keeping his host in the dark a little longer. Finding small ways to amuse himself would help him suppress his furious violent urges for now.

But to his disappointment, it seemed his host was calming down now, taking deep, steadying breaths. "I don't think I evenwant to know what just happened," Bakura muttered, still looking at his hand. He clenched it gently and glanced up, looking thoughtful. "Wait. Was that a dream, or did I really see...?"

_/Idiot./_

Bakura blinked and stiffened.

_/Not excited to see me?-/_ the spirit asked, sneering._ /That's too bad. I have something I need to discuss with you.-/_

Bakura hesitated for a moment, then asked unexpectedly, _/Are you going to tell me what you were doing yesterday?-/_

After a short pause the spirit answered, _/No, I'm not. In any case, I highly doubt that it would have any meaning to you, Vessel./_

Bakura let out a deep breath of mixed worry and relief.

The spirit ignored his host and continued, _/I have something different to discuss with you./_

His host frowned slightly, but didn't speak.

_/You know who you saw up there, don't you?-/_ the spirit said quietly. The venom was starting to pump again, but he forced it back down this time. As long as he kept thinking about it and encouraging himself to think about it, it would be hard to resist the temptation to let it control him again and he would be constantly terrorized by its presence lurking near the front of his mind.

But also, he _especially_ couldn't allow his host to think the spirit inside his pendant had become something of a loose cannon, controlled by his emotions. Loose cannons were far too easy to manipulate – his host might even delude himself into thinking that _he_ could manipulate _him_. The spirit could not let his host have such a completely anserine thought even enter his pathetic mind. The spirit was the one in control, always.

_/Yugi...?-/_ Bakura said, his voice holding a hint of hope, despite his doubt.

At the mention of the name, the spirit could feel his blood almost starting to boil, but he forced himself to ignore it a second time. _/Yes,-/_ he said stiffly. He took a moment to master himself before continuing, _/Do as you like. But remember – you are not to tell him the circumstances of which you came here, understand?-/_

This seemed to startle his host – even more so than the spirit's unusual anger masked by a thin veil of forced semi-politeness, which Bakura had picked up on despite his usual obliviousness.

_/What? Why?-/_ Bakura asked in surprise.

_/Those are my instructions,-/_ said the spirit coolly._ /So you will do as I say. I am certain he already knows I am with you, but you are not to discuss me. When you talk to Yugi you talk as though, for all you know, I vanished after Battle City./_

His host didn't say anything for a moment. The spirit could see his host trying to figure out why the spirit would ban him entirely from something that was probably trivial in the overall scheme of things, especially considering the spirit seemed to think that Yugi already knew anyway. To give him a bit more of an edge, to give him the chance to get the drop on the two? The spirit could hear his host's confused thoughts. But finally, when the boy arrived at no fully satisfactory answer, he gave up and asked quietly, his voice holding a hint of a challenge, _/Why should I?-/_

The spirit didn't reply. Bakura gasped and jumped back a little as he realized that the spirit's ghostly form had materialized next to him, standing by the bed. The boy swallowed, his gaze dropping to his bed sheets the moment their eyes met.

The spirit's lip curled into a sneer. _/I think you'll agree that that's not something I need to waste my time being concerned with. You are simply too weak to resist me and you know it./ _ The spirit paused, his cold eye focused entirely on his host. _ /But... there is one thing that's even __**more**__ important – that you __**will **__**not**__, under__** any**__ circumstances, divulge./_

Bakura flinched as the spirit extended a translucent hand toward him. Bakura squeezed his eye shut, his whole body tense.

The spirit's hand came to a halt just before his host's silken black scarf. Bakura opened his eye and raised his eyebrows in surprise. _ "_You don't want me to tell him about..." Bakura began, speaking aloud to the spirit's ghostly form standing in front of him.

_/Very good, Host,-/_ said the spirit, looking moderately pleased. _/You keep the Eye a secret at all costs... __**do you understand**__?-/_

His host raised his gaze to stare back at the spirit defiantly, obviously trying to hide his fear. The spirit could sense his host wanting to fight. To be brave against the 'evil' inside himself...

Feh. What an arrogant vessel.

The spirit shook his head, smiling. _/Don't tell me you want me to __**convince**__ you, my Host... Well, all right. I'll play it your way, but don't say I didn't warn you./_

Bakura frowned and gave the spirit a cautiously inquisitive look.

The spirit turned to look over at one of the empty beds.

Bakura glanced over at the bed, then turned back to the spirit looking more confused than ever.

The spirit's gaze slowly shifted back to his host and he said softly, _/That Olseth boy has been bothering you, hasn't he Host?-/_

The spirit could barely suppress a grin of triumph as he saw his host pale.

"You – You _wouldn't_..." Bakura began, his voice laced with shock and anger. "If you turn him into a doll, I'll... I'll..."

_/Oh, how terrifying,-/ _sneered the spirit. _/Why do you look like that? Honestly, don't you think people like that deserve to mysteriously... **disappear**?-/_

The spirit found the look on his host's face utterly satisfying. His lips curled into a smirk and his eye glinted with sadistic pleasure. _/Well?-/_ he prodded.

_/You're... You're a.../ _gasped his host, staring with a single wide brown eye at the ghostly apparition standing in front of him as he realized all over again the depths to which the spirit would sink to get what he wanted.

_/And what about the others?-/_ the spirit continued. _/What about that boy who was so rude to you at that wizard sporting event? Or that boy who was down in the common room, who is always giving you a hard time?-/_

Bakura wrapped his arms around his knees and lowered his gaze to his bed sheets, not able to look at the spirit any longer. His breathing turned into a series of short gasps, before catching once in a dry sob.

The spirit didn't say any more; he didn't need to say another word. So easy. Sopathetic.

The spirit laughed softly and retreated to his soul room, leaving the essence of his cruel, cold voice to echo in the shivering boy's mind.

"_**What you really fear is your enemy's idea of justice. No one can truly draw the line between just and unjust, good and evil."**_

So in this chapter, you find out that Yami Bakura's not as self-centered as you thought :D. lol, yeh... anyway...

Replies to reviews:

-Twin Tails Speed: thanks :D

-AnimeLoverAngel: xDD! -(Poor Atem xD )Yeh, I dunno why, but I really like writing intense things...

-Saffron-Starlight: Yeh, I'm obsessed with Diabound. XD yeh... probably not. D: -(You know, I never actually thought of the Change of Heart as being his Ka until you said that; now I feel the need to write another fanfiction xD, j/k ;D)

-albino-yaoi: xD! thanks :D

-cgflower: Yeh, it doesn't really make sense to me either. (especially considering he apparently isn't even the tombrobber, at least in the anime D: -) About Yugi... did this chapter answer that question? -;D

Thank you, it means a lot :D

-PenguinsRockMySocks: thanks! Yeh, I love Bakura too :D

-Computerfreak101: Yeh, it's one of those things that happens in a lot of stories D: The good guys could never beat the bad guys if they were trying their hardest, so they have to lose by their own flaws. XD

Oh! but I was looking over the episode again (actually, I was converting some of my videos to DVD and I ended up watching the episode again, more than once) and I was a little confused by that whole thing. Yami Bakura says, "You know, I could end my turn right now, causing you to discard the rest of your deck immediately, but I'd rather watch you squirm some more." (or something to that effect) But if that was true, then Yugi would have lost after Yami Bakura's attack anyway, right? Yugi's wasn't going to discard the rest of his deck until the END of his turn, so whether Yami Bakura had attacked or not, Yugi would have still gotten his turn, right?

I dunno if that makes any sense (it doesn't jibe with what Yami Bakura said xD), but maybe that means Yami Bakura did the smartest thing he could in the situation. (by getting rid of four of Yugi's cards, and leaving Yugi only one card in his deck, it would, in theory, reduce Yugi's options). I had to go over that scene several times, before I got a sort-of understanding, but I think that's the way it is. D:

So, anyway. XD Yeh, Yami Bakura should be appearing more often from now on :D. He probably won't be in every single chapter, but pretty close to it. Every other chapter at the very least. I dunno why, but I think I like writing Yami Bakura more than Bakura (even though Bakura's my favorite character). It probably has something to do with the fact that I get to use every synonym of the word 'evil' in the dictionary. xD

For the record, I'm completely obsessed with his trench coat. That's why he had to wear it over vacation :D. Yeh, I loved that, too. (I thought it was sort of strange when the game room just disappeared from all the action and you never saw anymore of it after they merged with their 'game selves' though D: -)

-Jyrotika: Hmm, no Ryou won't get any magic of his own; he's magic-less for this fic. D: LOL, revenge? Again, probably not (bullies get away with too much D: -), but if anything does happen to them, let's just say it probably won't be for Ryou's sake. XD

Bloodshed? Wherever I can work it in :-)

-Lily of the Shadow: Hey, you're my 100th reviewer! -:D Thanks; don't worry, I don't intend on giving up yet ;D

THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! -:DDDD

Please r and r.

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

I decided to make Yugi 'Yugi Mutou' after all, as he is in the Japanese and manga, rather than 'Yugi Moto/Mohto' as he is the English dub. To make it a bit more consistent...

(earlier vers. last edited 11/24/2006)


	20. Reunion

:O! I updated. It's been a little longer than usual, but then, this was a longgg chapter. XD (it's still too long, even after I split the original chapter 20 in half XD) Though I suppose it's not as long as last chapter...

Also, this doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, but I wanted to ask about the forums on this site. How do you reply to a topic? -(I know there are little reply buttons on each post, but I figure that's replying to a specific post, right?-) I tried to figure it out myself, but I couldn't figure it out. (with my luck, it's probably something really simple XD) But yeh, how do you just reply to the topic itself? D:

**-20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20 -20**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 20: Reunion

Bakura's eye snapped open and he jerked awake. Gasping for breath, he lifted a hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead and and slowly sat up in bed. He looked around, hazily taking in the familiar setting of the Slytherin dorm room.

Through his labored breathing, he gave a small sigh of relief and his breathing slowed back down to its regular pace, his heart returning to its normal rhythm.

However, as he felt physically better, the images of the dream began to flood back through his mind and he lowered his head to his chest as he felt the burden of the vibrant colors and putrid smells from the dream overwhelming him.

_Blood, screaming, the acrid smell of burnt flesh..._

He squeezed his eye shut and covered his ears with his hands. He wished he could block it all out, these vivid images of carnage that plagued his dreams. The misery, the pain. And of course, that sense of complete helplessness against the swift and deadly power of these murderers – murderers that his reason told him could never have existed...

Slowly, he laid back down and turned onto his side. Curling protectively inward, his stomach continued to churn as scenes from the dream continued to replay themselves in his mind. He knew that they would fade soon enough – dreams always did. By the time he was up in the afternoon sunlight that shone down on him from the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall, the nightmares would seem insignificant and faraway. His knew it in his mind... and yet his heart still continued to chant in its quiet anguish, _"It will never end. It will never end."_

He laid there for a long while, trembling and unable to pry his hands away from his ears. He ought to get up – he ought to get up and go _do_ something. Anything was better than just lying here and feeling this way. But what else was there to do in this broken world made up of loneliness and pain?

He must have kept that position for at least a quarter of an hour, lethargy overcoming all his senses as he tried to drown the deafening noise of his own crying thoughts in the silence of the deserted dorm room. But gradually, as he had known it would, time lessened the weight in his chest. He breathed deeply and, though he didn't feel like moving much, forced himself to roll over onto his back.

He stared up at the ceiling high above him and wiped a bit of the cold sweat from his face to stop it from running down into his eye. It was just a dream, he told himself. Next time, he'd have to make sure he didn't get so worked up. It was silly, really, to get upset over something that wasn't real.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered what could possibly cause him to have a dream as horrifying as that one. He'd had that same dream twice now, especially one so vivid. Bakura had never seen anything like it before and, unlike his other dreams, this one just continued to stick in his mind even after it was over. Acidic bile rose in his throat every time he thought about it, and he felt something else as well, a feeling of deep sadness that went beyond the regular nausea such rampant death and carnage induced. But he understood none of of it, or why it was happening now.

He fought the urge to really vomit as a thought suddenly occurred to him. A chill ran down his spine and he shook his head vigorously, fighting not to think about it. But, he still couldn't stop that little voice in the back of his mind asking, always asking... _Aren't most of the strange things in your life somehow connected to the spirit within the Millennium Ring? Maybe these dreams are coming from him. Maybe it was __**he**__ who was responsible for the savage murder of all those people..._

Bakura forced himself up into a siting position and covered his mouth with his hand. Oh, he felt sick.

Forcefully, he told himself that there was nothing he could have done – could _do_. Nothing. Those people dying was completely out of his control, whoever they were, wherever they were.

Bowing his head, he pulled his hand away from his mouth and silently acknowledged to himself that this sentiment gave him little more comfort than the other. Ryou Bakura, the boy who had no control. No control of anything.

But those people only existed in his dreams anyway, right? They couldn't really exist.

Bakura got out of bed, hoping some movement would help stop his emotional downward spiral. He began to pace the empty room, his eye flitting from the emerald curtains hung up around the beds to the thick, dark carpet that sat in the middle of the room. But still his mind continued to stray back to the Millennium Ring.

Finding himself more worried than ever about the things the spirit did with his body while he was incognizant, he wondered if he would ever escape any of this. On top of it all, he couldn't even talk to Yugi now that his friend was finally here.

The constant worry that the spirit would use his body for ill ends had always eaten away at him, just as the worry had eaten away at him when all those people had gone into comas after playing games with him. But when he'd met Yugi and the others, at least there had always been someone around who knew his secret. Here at this magic school there was no one who understood – only those who could look at him and judge him for his sometimes erratic behavior.

When he'd seen Yugi sitting in the Great Hall that morning, for just a brief moment Bakura had thought that things would be all better now. Everything would be solved. At last he had his friend back, someone to confide in and who cared whether he fell twenty feet from a flying broomstick or not.

But now... If Yugi wasn't supposed to even know the spirit was still around, if Bakura was forced to hide it – what was left for him?

Yugi's being at Hogwarts should have been a blessing, but if Bakura was going to have to play the same game he was already playing with everyone else, the game of secrecy and covering things up, then it would just be another problem he'd have to work around.

But what was the point of all this anyway? The spirit had said it himself: Yugi probably already knew the spirit was there and behind Bakura's being at Hogwarts. It was understandable why the spirit would as soon leave Yugi none the wiser about Millennium Eye as the Millennium Eye's power would give him a clear advantage, especially if Yugi was caught off-guard. But that had nothing to do with the spirit's presence. Especially a presence that had already been detected.

The more he thought about it, the more certain Bakura became that the spirit had nothing of conseqence gain from this restriction. Bakura actually wasn't worried so much about the situation with the Millennium Eye as Yugi would pull through no matter how much the odds were stacked against him. If the spirit had simply asked him to keep the Millennium Eye a secret, Bakura would probably have complied without a whole lot of dissent. However, he had a a strange, disconcerting feeling that the spirit had implemented the other thing for the sole purpose of making Bakura, and only Bakura, suffer. To remind him of just who was in control.

Bakura's eye stung as he opened it and he lifted his head to stare at one of the four windowless walls in the dark, cold dorm room.

No matter how much he thought about it, no matter how much it upset him, there was nothing he could do. He should just be glad that Yugi was here at all and leave it at that. Bakura had his friend with him now, what more could he ask for? He didn't have to be alone anymore, even if he still _was_ alone.

Gritting his teeth and wiping the tears from his eye, he got down onto his knees and pulled his trunk out from under his bed. In a game of chess, there are two players that command and control the pieces. A mere playing piece couldn't be cheated. Yet, no matter what anyone said, Bakura still felt as though he was being played unfairly...

Bakura changed out of the clothes he'd fallen asleep in and into a fresh pair of robes that had been washed the day before. Pulling on his shoes, he walked out of the dormitories and trudged up the gentle incline of the corridor that led to the common room. When Bakura reached it, he saw that the common room was empty and figured Malfoy was probably off doing something suspicious as usual.

The light of the common room seemed to bring him out of the hole of despair he'd dug himself into, even if it was the eerie green light coming from the lamps decorated with their metallic snakes that hung from the high ceiling.

Bakura took a deep, relieving breath of the cold dungeon air and, as the effects of the suffocating atmosphere of the dark dorm room wore off and he returned to the real world, he suddenly grimaced a little, putting a hand on his stomach as he woke up to the fact that he felt like he might pass out if he didn't get something to eat soon. He didn't know how long the spirit had had control of him, but it had been at least a day, and Bakura suspected that the spirit had not paid any attention at all to his bodily needs during that time.

Glancing up at the clock hanging just above the fireplace, he saw that it was just past lunchtime. Would Yugi still be up there?

Of course, Bakura was a little apprehensive of seeing his friend right away after this morning, but it wouldn't do any good trying to put it off. All he could do was hope that the spirit hadn't done anything _too_ strange during his last excursion, or at least anything that would make it necessary for him to use his nonexistent skills at deception and evasive speaking.

Although now that he thought about it, Bakura had a feeling Yugi would understand even if he wasn't allowed to say anything directly. Yugi knew about the spirit, and he knew what kind of person Bakura was, so he'd understand it hadn't been Bakura. He might even be able to help.

Bakura still had to worry about what the teachers thought though. Up until this point, besides Professor Snape who had given him more than his share of strange looks already, they'd all treated him fairly normally. What if after this they all started to shoot suspicious glances his way whenever he passed by them? Perhaps they would begin to watch him through narrowed eyes every time he came to class.

He exited the common room, certain his anxiety was showing on his face. As he quickly navigated the maze-like underground corridors that he'd become so accustomed to and climbed the staircase that led to the hallway outside the Great Hall, he paused at the top. He saw the outline of a familiar giant preparing to go inside, standing just outside the doors. The overly-sized man stopped as well, glancing over his shoulder and noticing the Slytherin first year standing next to the staircase, the boy's hand still resting on the handrail. The man's face broke into a big, friendly smile.

"Hey there, Ryou!" Professor Hagrid called over cheerfully.

"Oh, hello Professor Hagrid," Bakura said, returning the greeting as he closed the short distance between himself and the Great Hall doors to stand next to Hagrid. He smiled nervously. It appeared Professor Hagrid was the first test to see if the spirit had done anything... _unorthodox_ during his last time possessing Bakura. Maybe there was hope after all; Hagrid wasn't treating him any different than usual.

"Feelin' better, are yeh?" Hagrid asked, giving Bakura something of a concerned look.

Bakura's smile froze. "What... do you mean?" he asked after a moment, struggling to keep his face calm and his voice even.

"Yeh said yer weren' feelin' well at breakfast s' mornin' and yeh didn't look so good," Hagrid explained, not noticing Bakura's discomfort, though still giving Bakura a strange look that seemed to imply, not unreasonably, that Bakura ought to have known this himself. "Summat upset yeh?" he asked.

"Oh y-yes, well..." Bakura gave a nervous sort of cough. "I did feel a little – but I mean, I do feel better now." Bakura shifted nervously from one foot to another before adding quickly, "And I'm sorry if I said anything...r-_rude_ or anything..."

"Naw, yer fine," said Hagrid with a smile. His smile suddenly broadened into grin as he added, "Although, that look yeh gave the new student woulda been enough ter put Lucius Malfoy in his place- and tha's sayin' summat."

Bakura didn't know who Lucius was, but it seemed pretty obvious that it was someone Hagrid wasn't exactly fond of. He wondered idly if Lucious Malfoy was related to Draco Malfoy. The two could be brothers, Bakura thought.

After Hagrid was done grinning, he focused his attention back down on Bakura and took on a rather serious look. "But anyway, I have ter ask. Did tha' kid do summat ter yeh?" he asked. "I mean, ter look at 'im like tha'... Just seems a little strange fer yeh, Ryou."

"Oh – Oh, no," said Bakura quickly, shaking his head. "It didn't have anything to do with... _uh_... him. I was... thinking about something... _um_... different... different at the time." He wrung his hands nervously together, but then forced himself to put them back down at his sides. He hoped it sounded more believable to Professor Hagrid than it did to him.

"All righ', Ryou," said Hagrid, giving Bakura a bit of a confused look, but sensing the Slytherin's unease chose not to press him. "I believe yeh. Anyway, I'm goin' ter lunch now. See yeh in there."

"Okay," Bakura said, nodding as the giant professor turned away from him and went on into the Great Hall. Well, that could have gone worse he supposed. It was funny, but Professor Hagrid wasn't nearly as fearsome as he'd thought to begin with. In fact, despite his unusually large size, when it came to being intimidating in general he didn't even come close to comparing with some of the other professors.

With at least a little of the anxiety lifted, Bakura smiled a little to himself as he followed the Professor through the large doors and into the Great Hall. As he stepped inside, he noticed that all the tables had been moved back to their original locations and the whole of the Hogwart's staff sat at the table at the front of the room again as they always had. The students' section was almost completely deserted, save Malfoy and his goons sitting at the Slytherin table. Consequently, it didn't take long for Bakura to locate the small person he was looking for.

Yugi sat alone at the Gryffindor table. It didn't appear as though Yugi had started eating yet, he was just now reaching out tentatively to start putting things on his plate.

Seeing his friend again after all this time, Bakura temporarily lost his breath. His face broke into a smile and he started forward toward the table, his heart in his throat. It had been easy to come up with all the problems there would be with Yugi's being here down in that dark, cold room, but he found that none of it mattered anymore – nothing could take this joy away from him.

He hesitated for a second as a fleeting thought occurred to him and he shot a hesitant glance in the direction of the staff table, wondering if he would be reprimanded for not sitting with the Slytherins today.

Shrugging a little, he continued once again toward the Gryffindor table deciding that, if they didn't want him to sit there, they would have to come and tell him so. He wasn't going to go sit all alone at the Slytherin table like he usually did when his best friend he hadn't seen in four months was sitting two tables over.

As he approached and came to stand next to his friend, he saw that Yugi's plate was still empty. For a moment, he wondered incredulously if Yugi had been waiting for him, even not knowing whether Bakura would come or not. Then, as he leaned over a little, he saw that Yugi was unnaturally still, almost like a statue. His eyes had a glassy, distant tone to them.

_'He must be talking with the other Yugi,'_ Bakura thought to himself, then cringed a little as he wondered if their enigmatic white-haired friend could be the subject of their conversation.

Bakura didn't have time to dwell on this thought for long though as Yugi moved suddenly and turned his head to look at him over his shoulder.

Yugi looked surprised for a moment, then his face broke into a wide grin. "Bakura!" he cried, then he took on a rather sheepish, almost apologetic look at having unintentionally ignored him. However, Yugi didn't bother to explain himself; he knew that Bakura understood.

"It's been too long," Yugi said, shaking his head. Even though the whole bench was completely empty, he scooted over a little as though making room and gestured for Bakura to sit down next to him.

"Hello, Yugi," Bakura greeted back as he happily obliged. "Yes, it certainly has been awhile, hasn't it?" Remembering that he was almost sick with hunger, Bakura began to help himself to the wide selection of lunch items.

"When Professor McGonagall mentioned you, I couldn't tell you how surprised I was," said Yugi conversationally as he spread some butter on his roll. "But, between you and me, I'm definitely glad to have someone I know here."

"Yes... me too," Bakura agreed. Yugi had no idea just how much. What had he been so upset about just half an hour ago again? There really wasn't anything in the world to make him miserable, not at a time like this.

"What is it, Bakura?" Yugi asked, catching Bakura's smile.

Bakura shook his head. "It's nothing." He turned his attention to his food and reached for the butter. "By the way, Yugi," said Bakura after a moment, though he would not have minded simply sitting in silence awhile longer but not wanting to make Yugi feel uncomfortable, "your English is excellent. I had no idea you could speak it so well."

Yugi laughed, then looked a little guilty. "Well, I have taken English classes, but I was always one of the worst in my class. When I came here, they actually had to do something to me so that I'd be able to communicate."

"Really?" said Bakura with raised eyebrows. "Some kind of spell, I guess. Right?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Something with one of these." He reached into his long black robes and pulled out a shiny dark wand, holding it out for Bakura to see.

"Oh I see, so what incantation did they use?" Bakura asked curiously. He may not have been able to perform any spells, but he found it fascinating just looking to see what all could be done with magic. He'd memorized quite a few incantations himself, many that weren't even meant for first years. Since he'd learned that he needn't bother with actually practicing the spells, he had time to look over all the incantations he wanted.

Yugi paused as though considering it. "...I have absolutely no idea," he said finally, chuckling at Bakura's disappointed look. "I didn't even know what they were doing at the time," he went on. "I'd been here for like, five minutes and couldn't understand what they were saying, and they couldn't understand me. I didn't even really know what was going on."

Before he had time to think better of it, Bakura found himself asking, "Yugi, how exactly _did_ you come to be here?"

Suddenly taking on a nervous look, though grinning in a transparent attempt to hide it, Yugi glanced away and didn't answer at first. When he finally spoke, he said evasively without making eye contact, "Uh, well, you know..." He looked up. "How did _you_ come to be here, Bakura?" he asked, turning the tables. He knitted his eyebrows as he gave Bakura his attention.

"I – I only discovered this place by accident," said Bakura quickly, flushing as it was his turn to break eye contact. "I'm like you. I didn't have any prior knowledge about anything here..."

Stupid, stupid – Honestly. One didn't have to have a gift for divination to realize what questioning Yugi on that particular subject would inspire Yugi to ask him in turn. The one thing he was supposed to be hiding, and he'd gone and drawn attention to it first thing.

There was an awkward silence before Yugi decided to change the subject by asking, "Well anyway, I've been wondering since I first saw you this morning, what's that scarf covering your eye for? Not that it looks bad exactly, but... it's a little strange on you, Bakura."

Out of all the things Yugi could have chose to change the subject to, it was just his luck that it would be the one other thing he wasn't supposed to talk about. "Oh – Oh this?" he said, with a nervous little laugh that sounded a little too high to be natural, even to this own ears. "It's... _uh_... a fashion statement." Bakura could not stop himself from wringing his hands nervously in his lap as he said this, and hoped that Yugi wouldn't notice.

"Well, it certainly is a statement," Yugi said jokingly.

"Yes..." Bakura agreed, smiling nervously. Deciding that it might be best if he didn't give Yugi the opportunity to ask much more about it, he said brightly, "Oh, I almost forgot, Merry Christmas, Yugi!"

If Yugi noticed that Bakura was intentionally changing subjects on him, he didn't show it. "Oh, yeah! Merry Christmas to you too, Bakura." He hesitated thoughtfully. "If I'd thought about it, I would've gotten you something when I was getting my school supplies."

"Oh, no," said Bakura quickly, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, Yugi." He hadn't gotten Yugi anything either, for one thing. Speaking of gifts, Bakura suddenly wondered what the others back home were doing for Christmas. What were they all doing right now, as he and Yugi learned spells and incantations in this bizarre school of magic? It wasn't just Yugi he'd missed, but Anzu, Honda, Jonouchi...

"Yugi... how are the others doing?" Bakura asked softly, his expression far away.

Yugi looked a little caught off-guard by the question, but quickly recovered. "Oh, they're doing fine," he answered, smiling reassuringly. "But they've all been really worried about you, and so have I. It was a little strange for you to just leave without really speaking to anyone."

This brought Bakura out of his wistful thoughts and he coughed slightly, not saying anything for a moment. Finally he spoke up, trying his best not to sound as though he was lying through his teeth, "Oh, I'm sorry. It was, uh, short notice and I didn't really have time – time to... to..."

"It's okay, Bakura," Yugi said gently. "You don't need to explain yourself."

Bakura looked at Yugi with a curious expression, not sure what to think or feel. For some reason, that had sounded a little odd – unnatural, somehow. As if Yugi knew more than he was letting on,like he understood what Bakura was going through enough to be able to know what to say to ease Bakura's anxiety.

"Don't worry about it," Yugi continued, smiling while Bakura continued to look back at Yugi, a pensive confusion creasing his eyebrows. "Anyway," Yugi said brightly, catching Bakura's look and evidently determined to talk about something else. "I have this new wizarding game I just got. What do you say we try it out after breakfast?"

"All right..." Bakura agreed, though his mind was still elsewhere and he didn't fully comprehend the words.

How much could Yugi know? He had to wonder. The spirit of the Millennium Ring seemed to think Yugi already knew the spirit was there with Bakura and, based on that, Yugi could also guess that it was the spirit that had brought him to Hogwarts School in the first place. Bakura felt a wave of relief wash over him. It didn't matter if he wasn't allowed to talk about the spirit if Yugi already knew and so didn't need to question him. Perhaps, if Bakura was lucky, this meant his life in this place from this point on would not only be tolerable, but even – dare he suggest it – _pleasant_...

"_**I'll be happy to teach you a thing or two about gracefully losing." **_

Replies to Reviews:

-Twin Tails Speed: thanks :D. Hmm, that's a difficult question. X3 I'd say yes, they will be friends with him (more than Bakura is at any rate), especially since they're in the same house.

-stranger12: I glad :D. Don't worry about Yami Bakura; I like him best evil, so... X3 (yeh, I don't know why, but whenever I, or a lot of people write fanfiction, it seems like Ryou ends up being terrified by evil!Yami Bakura. D: it's what comes naturally for some reason XD).

Well, it isn't so much that they (Yugi and Yami Yugi) don't remember him; it's more that they want to avoid tricky questions from the teachers, who'd probably find it suspicious to have two late-starters (which they'd never had before) in the same year and find out that they know each other outside school. X3 So they're just pretending to not know each other.

About the trench coat... I'll certainly do my best :D.

-albino-yaoi: Yeh, I wanna glomp him too. X3

-AnimeLoverAngel: XD! (Yeh, we all have those moments, don't we?-) thanks! -:D

-Lily of the Shadow: XD! I guess that's just how things go. (I'd say, "Well, so much for karma D: " but, considering my stats concerning reviews... I don't think I'm one to talk XD)

Thanks :D. Yeh, I've felt that way too. (It's almost worse than just feeling depressed, D: at least for me XD)

-cgflower: Thanks! -:D The best chapter? Really? Yeh, I think Yugi's reason for coming to Hogwarts is discussed in a couple chapters.

Yess, I would volunteer to give Yami Bakura a hug myself. -:'D (Of course... I'd be sure to get some life insurance first D: XD)

-Raz2b: Yess X3 Snape is way too curious.

-DarthPhoenixFire: thanks! A fic where Yami Bakura turns a whole Quidditch match into a shadow game... You wouldn't be talking about the New Students, would you? XD I like that fic...

Yep, everyone loves the trench coat :D.

-PenguinsRockMySocks: thanks! And don't worry about it; I'm just glad to have you reading; thanks for reviewing :D

-Starshinesoldier: aww, yeh. D: poor Ryou. Thanks for saying so :D.

-Akane-HiME: XD! -:D Yeh, I guess it was sort of too simple... XD (But hopefully the wizards would have been smart enough to put something in the barrier to let only non-muggles in, so it wouldn't be that easy X3-) thanks :3

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

Please r and r.- :3

(first vers. last edited 1/14/2007)


	21. Stupefy!

Wow, this was a fast update.- :O! But... I guess I just liked this chapter more than chapter twenty. XD (yeh... nothing really happened... D: -)

**-21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21 -21**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or, of course, the quotes at the end.

Chapter 21: Stupefy!

For what time they still had of the holiday, the two spent most of it either playing the wizarding game Gobstones Yugi had bought in Diagon Alley, or trying to get Yugi caught up on the part of the year he'd missed.

Bakura was grateful for the chance to be the one helping Yugi for a change, rather than the other way around, but Bakura could not stop himself from being a little disappointed when he saw how good Yugi was with spells. It was almost always a matter of Yugi simply saying the incantation and the results coming out the end of his wand. Although, on rare occasions, Yugi's wand would go as dead as Bakura's. But this didn't happen very often, so Yugi wasn't especially concerned. Bakura didn't think Yugi had cause for concern either.

But even if it seemed as if Bakura was to be trapped in Yugi's shadow yet again, he could not bring himself to mind very much and could not help but enjoy his holiday with Yugi. Bakura would have preferred the holiday go on forever as he grew to dread his return to classes and the failed spells and extra homework that it implied. But, no matter how much he tried to block it out, he soon found himself climbing into bed the night before he'd be going back to classes all the same.

He tried reading from his Defense Against the Dark Arts book to calm his nerves but, somehow, he didn't exactly find the detailed descriptions of dangerous spells and grotesque monsters all that helpful. Not to mention, they tended to bring back memories of the sickening, bizarre dreams he'd been having an awful lot lately. But he was determined his time with Yugi not be ruined by a morbid imagination run wild.

...O

The next day, Bakura trudged into the Great Hall for breakfast, half-asleep and his appetite just barely returning to him after the nightmare he'd had last night. Really, he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He considered telling Yugi about the nightmares, but he hesitated to do so. For one thing, if it was just simply a dream, then he wouldn't want to trouble Yugi over it. On the other hand, if it was indeed something from the spirit's mind, as Bakura had come to suspect off and on, then that may result in someone losing their soul...

As Bakura sat down with Yugi at the Gryffindor table, he did his best to ignore the looks he got from Yugi's fellow Gryffindors. He got some dirty looks from the Slytherins as well, but he was used to those by now and he had a two-table buffer between him and them, so they were easier to ignore.

Eventually the blank and weirded-out stares went away and Yugi said to Bakura in a hushed tone so as not to attract more attention, "I have Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts today. You have those too, right?"

"Yes," Bakura answered, also in a low voice. "We go to Care of Magical Creatures right after breakfast, then Defense Against the Dark Arts after lunch." He hesitated for a moment, thinking of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yugi was in Gryffindor, naturally, so it was only right for Bakura to put his friend on his guard.

"Oh and Yugi," Bakura began, a little nervously, glancing up at the staff table. "Speaking of Defense Against the Dark Arts, I think it would be better if I warned you in advance about Professor Snape..."

After breakfast, the two went to Care of Magical Creatures. The class had a lot of questions for him, why he was transferring to Hogwarts, why he was starting so late in the year, and so on.

No one seemed to realize at first that Yugi was too old to be in a beginning Care of Magical Creatures class, but Yugi was quick to straighten them out, even though Bakura wouldn't have minded being in Yugi's position, with the choice to hide how different he was in regards to his age. When they all found out Yugi and Bakura had become good friends, Yugi was quickly assimilated largely thanks to the efforts of Orla and her posse. Though Yugi thanked Bakura when they were alone again and said he was glad Bakura was there, Bakura privately thought that Yugi would have had no trouble making friends whether he was there or not.

As far as the class itself went, as Bakura had guessed, it turned out that Yugi was a natural. He seemed to know a lot about the things they studied and every mythical beast Hagrid happened to mention, especially the ones that held even the slightest resemblance to duel monster cards. The creatures also seemed to react well to Yugi, warming up to him before anyone else. Needless to say, Hagrid quickly became attached to his newest student.

Unlike with the casting of spells, Bakura had to say that Yugi's superiority in Professor Hagrid's class didn't bother him in the slightest. At least Bakura wasn't completely hopeless at it, and Yugi could now help him out if he had any trouble. Care of Magical Creatures was more about knowledge and patience than wand work after all.

After Care of Magical Creatures was over, the two went to lunch. Yugi's cheerful mood was soon replaced by a worried, more somber one as the prospect of going to Defense Against the Dark Arts loomed closer. This unusual level of vexation could probably be attributed to Bakura's rather descriptive report of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, telling Yugi numerous stories including of every incident he could think of where his Head of House had done something less than fair to his unfortunate Gryffindor classmates.

"You were exaggerating about the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher just to scare me, right Bakura?" Yugi asked for about the millionth time, as they walked down the corridor toward the classroom. "That's not like you."

"Actually, I don't think I did him justice," Bakura answered ruefully. He wished he could cheer his friend up, but when it came to Professor Snape... Bakura doubted ignorance would be bliss. "For whatever reason, he really doesn't like Gryffindors," Bakura affirmed.

Yugi sighed, biting his lip. "Great. Why do I keep picturing some sort of Shadow Game happening after class?"

Bakura laughed a little despite himself. "Well, let's hope that doesn't happen. Professor Snape doesn't learn lessons, he only teaches them. You might even end up getting detention afterward."

Yugi started to laugh, then stopped, looking worried again. "I don't want to get detention on my first day..."

Inside the classroom, Yugi looked around at Snape's choice posters and decorations, and made a face. He shared a look with Bakura, but didn't say anything, too intimidated by the teacher sitting at his desk at the front of the room. So the two only took seats next to each other near the back and waited for class to start in silence.

Most of the other students were pretty quiet as well, but Bakura noticed his Slytherin roommates nudging one another and whispering as they gaped at Yugi. Some were even snickering a little. If they had been Gryffindors, Snape might have taken points off for being too loud, but as it was, Snape turned a deaf ear to it and only continued writing at his desk.

Some of the Slytherins shot Bakura annoyed glances, as though they felt betrayed by him. Bakura couldn't come up with a single reason for them to feel this way, considering not one of them had ever treated him like a part of Slytherin in the past. But now apparently he was expected to show House loyalty like anyone. They were certainly in for some disappointment.

Bakura ignored them pointedly and busied himself with pulling out his homework. Glancing worriedly at Yugi, Bakura wondered if perhaps he ought to have told Yugi of the assignment they had due and helped him to do it. Most teachers would understand that students who had just transferred in would not have the last assignment done, but Bakura was not so sure about Professor Snape.

Indeed, when Professor Snape came around to collect the papers, he made a sly comment on how Yugi's 'lack of preparation' wasn't much of a way to make a good first impression.

Yugi looked a little hurt and didn't make eye contact. This, in Bakura's opinion, was probably a tactic since eye contact or looking defiant in any way tended to spur Snape on. Bakura had forgotten, Yugi was as experienced as he when it came to bullying, and was familiar with all the strategies. Guide to survival for bully magnets, tactic number one: be submissive.

When Snape wasn't looking, Yugi raised his eyebrows at Bakura as if to say, "You were right about him."

Bakura shrugged back as though to say, "What can I say?"

When the class divided into teams of two in order to practice stunning spells, Bakura and Yugi immediately paired up. Bakura couldn't help but be a little apprehensive though since Yugi could perform pretty much any spell he chose. Plus, whenever the shorter boy did so, the spell always seemed to come out more powerful than he'd meant it to, amid a rain of gold and purple sparks.

Bakua swallowed. He didn't want to think what Yugi's stunning charm would do if his _Accio pen_ had been so powerful that the speeding pen had nearly put a hole through the boy's hand. Though that spell was supposed to be for higher-level wizards, Yugi's lack of need to practice much meant he simply went down the list, trying out the ones he thought looked useful.

Fortunately Yugi quickly said, evidently having had the same thoughts as his hapless friend, "Maybe you'd better go first, Bakura."

Bakura nodded and tried to smile. Most of the students were busy arguing over who would go first, since none of them were looking forward to being stunned. Of course, Yugi didn't need to be concerned with that and from the look on his face, he didn't appear too worried. Bakura resisted the urge to wince. Oh, so nice to have people believe in you.

"_Stupefy!_" Bakura cried, pointing his wand directly at Yugi. Maybe if he'd had had any hope at all that his spell would work, he'd have been more hesitant at casting a stunning charm at his friend. But, as usual, his wand did not react to the incantation. Instinctively he glanced around, hoping that no one was watching.

Professor Snape was busy verbally abusing one of the Gryffindors, so his back was to Bakura, but Olseth was looking right at the tall white-haired teen and gave him a mocking thumbs-up.

Bakura sighed and looked back at Yugi who had since adopted a rather sympathetic look.

Bakura really did wince then. "_Stupefy!_" he tried again, determined to prove that Olseth wasn't getting to him, but, as expected, nothing happened. Bakura grimaced and Yugi shrugged slightly.

Bakura prepared to do it a third time, but hesitated as he caught sight of Professor Snape looming up behind his partner.

Yugi didn't notice at first, but following Bakura's gaze he glanced over his shoulder and yelped, jumping.

Professor Snape sneered as he looked down at Yugi, right after shooting Bakura one of his usual calculating looks.

"Mr. Bakura," Professor Snape said suddenly and Bakura's gaze snapped up to the Professor's face for a fraction of a second before dropping to the floor. "Why don't you give our new student a chance to show us what he can do?"

Bakura stiffened. Was Professor Snape trying to embarrass Yugi by making him try a spell he couldn't perform in front of everyone? If that was it, he was in for a nasty surprise and Bakura was in for something even worse.

Bakura took a step back, his heart pummeling his throat. _'Oh dear.' _

Yugi started to give Professor Snape a pleading look, then stopped at the Professor's expression. Yugi slowly raised his wand. "_Stupefy,_" Yugi said, his voice soft and wavering.

Nothing happened.

Bakura relaxed about an inch. He hated to admit it with the sneer on Professor Snape's face that was growing more pronounced with every passing second, but Bakura was glad Yugi's wand had chosen now to act up. Bakura didn't think being stunned under the scrutiny of the whole class by a professional shadow gamer sounded like much fun.

"Oh well," said Professor Snape. "It seems you really _are_ behind..."

All the Slytherins, save Bakura of course, chuckled.

Crimson started to creep up Yugi's neck and he answered, "Yes, Sir."

"We'll have to make sure you're caught up," Snape continued, "so I'll expect an eight-inch summary of each chapter we've gone over this year by next class period."

Yugi's mouth dropped.

Bakura knitted his eyebrows. Surely it was one thing to give extra homework to help him get caught up, but so much at one time and with the entire class listening in? Professor Snape had to know that there was no way Yugi would be able to finish all that in time. But of course, this was Professor Snape's M.O. He probably intended to ridicule Yugi for all it was worth next class.

Bakura frowned a little. He glanced back at Yugi and his eye suddenly widened in shock as he saw that Yugi's features had darkened.

Bakura did a quick prayer for his Head of House's sanity before interpreting the apologetic look of the Pharaoh's face and realizing he'd prayed for the wrong person.

Professor Snape had just barely turned his back to them when the pharaoh cried, "_Stupefy!_"

Bakura froze in horror, unable to believe it. But then a different feeling came flooding through his head, pushing out ever ounce of fear. A hot, completely overwhelming emotion, that drowned out all sense of being...

"_Protego_!" His voice a low rasp, the word escaped his lips before he could make sense of what was happening. He felt the sheer power of the shield spell in his arm as it blocked the angry red light of the stunning charm. His arm felt paralyzed, but he knew better than to hope for that. The sense of paralysis came from the fact that his arm was being controlled by something, no, some_one_ else. A feeling only too familiar to Ryou Bakura for .

The pharaoh's expression betrayed no surprise. His eyes merely narrowed in loathing, his wand still raised.

The seconds ticked by as nobody in the room said anything, the two continuing to glare at each other, wands held aloft. Finally, Bakura felt himself regain use of his limbs and he lowered his wand, blinking. After a moment, so did Yugi, also back in control.

The room broke into a sea of frantic whispers.

Professor Snape silenced them with a look and turned to Yugi, scowling. "I did not ask you to attempt the spell a second time. Ten points from Gryffindor, I think, for lack of attention to instructions."

...O

"I can't believe how much homework he gave me!" Yugi complained as they were walking along the corridor away from the Defense Against the Dark of Arts classroom. "You weren't kidding."

Yugi had not commented on the stupefy fiasco and it didn't look like he was going to anytime soon. Bakura would have had to be mentally ill not to notice that Yugi was intentionally avoiding the subject of the spirit inside the Ring. So Yugi had already known, or at least suspected, as Bakura had thought.

"Bakura? Are you listening?"

Coming out of his thoughts, Bakura blinked and looked down at Yugi. He forced a smile. "Sorry, Yugi... What was it?"

"It's nothing really," Yugi said, giving Bakura a bit of a strange look. "I was just saying that I need to get started right away or I'll never finish all that homework in time."

Bakura nodded. "Oh, right. I'll help you as best I can Yugi, but I don't know whether or not getting it done will save you from Snape," he started to smile, but stopped when he saw that Yugi didn't seem amused. The terror of Professor Snape was not to be made light of.

"Anyway," said Bakura. "What do you say we go to the library? It may not be the best place for games, but..." He smiled a bit, recalling when they'd gone to play Gobstones during break in the library, which had lasted all of about five minutes before Madame Pince had gotten fed up with them and kicked them out, descending on them like a harpy.

Yugi smiled too. "Yeah that's a good plan, thanks a ton, Bakura. Though I still can't imagine anybody even if they knew the text inside and out could get it all done in just a week..."

"Don't worry," said Bakura encouragingly. "I'm probably the only person in our class that's actually _read_ everything up to the point we're at." Then, smiling a little ironically, added, "Since there's really no reason for me to bother practicing the spells, I can spend extra time on the text."

"Oh, Bakura," Yugi said, expression somewhere in between worry and trying to match Bakura's light, joking one, "Don't say that..."

...O

That night, Yugi Mutou lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. He rolled over in an attempt to get in a more comfortable position, but to no avail.

_/Partner, are you having trouble sleeping?-/_

Yugi smiled at the sound of the voice. _ /Sorry. Am I keeping you awake, Other Me?-/_

_/No,-/_ the pharaoh said quickly. _/Don't worry about it. Is there something you want to talk about?-/_

Yugi sat up and saw the ghostly image of his 'other self' sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiled. For some reason he couldn't quite explain, it was always comforting to talk to the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle, even when he wasn't particularly worried or upset about anything.

_/We saw the spirit of the Millennium Ring today,-/_ Yugi said quietly.

The pharaoh's expression darkened. _ /Yes, I know. I'm also pretty sure we saw him when we first came here, on Christmas Day, but now there can be no mistake./_

Yugi hesitated. _/Do you think that this proves what you thought before? That Bakura's being here is all **his** doing?-/_

_/It's impossible to tell for certain at this point, Partner; however, there can be no doubt that the spirit of the Ring is indeed here./_

Yugi's brow furrowed in thought. _/He must be wearing his Millennium Ring again,-/_ he said thoughtfully. _/But when did he put it on? I thought we were the ones who had it. But then, I guess I have to admit it's true we haven't seen it since Battle City.../_

_/I don't know,-/_ the pharaoh replied. _/But it doesn't matter so much __**how**__ he got it back. We just need to worry about what we're going to do now that he has it./_

Yugi bit his lip, staring down at his blankets. _ /I'd... When we saw that look in his eye when we first got here, I'd hoped it was nothing to worry about. I'd hoped that... that maybe it wasn't.../_

The pharaoh's pensive expression softened slightly as he sensed his partner's distress. _/Don't worry, Yugi; Bakura will be fine, trust me. But, while we're on the subject of his eyes, there's something I'm very interested in knowing./_

_/Oh, and what's that?-/_ Yugi asked, looking up.

_/What do you think Bakura is concealing under that scarf of his?-/_

_/Oh,-/ _Yugi said, shaking his head. _/You heard him, Other Self./_ Yugi laughed. _/It's a fashion statement. You have to admit, he's always sort of been into the occult and stuff, this isn't much different. Maybe he just wants to try the whole eye-patch look for awhile, like those old witches sometimes wear in fairy tales./ _At the lack of amusement of his other's face, Yugi's grin faded. _/Oh, come on. What would he be hiding?-/_

_/I don't know. That's why it troubles me./_

Yugi sighed and laid back down. _ /I think you're paranoid,-/_ he told the pharaoh, pulling the covers up to his chin. _/But I guess I'll humor you. Alright, what do you have in mind when you say you think he's hiding something?-/_

_/Perhaps he has been injured somehow,-/_ the pharaoh suggested. _/Remember when he impaled Bakura's hand on that tower?-/_

Yugi made a face. _ /So you're saying you think he did that to Bakura's eye? Oh, ick.../_

_/It would have to be a pretty serious injury for the spirit to want to keep it hidden,-/_ the pharaoh continued thoughtfully, ignoring his partner.

_/Maybe he__** was**__ injured, but that doesn't mean it has anything to do with the spirit,-/_ Yugi said, frowning. _/He could have just had an accident or something. It happens, doesn't it?-/_

_/It's possible, Yugi, but then why wouldn't he have just told us what it was? Bakura has not given any indication of knowing the spirit of the Millennium Ring is inhabiting his body once more, but at the same time, I believe he had to know. Somehow.../_ the pharaoh trailed off. When he really thought about it, it seemed so obvious. The way Bakura acted when Yugi had asked about the scarf, as though he had something to hide... There must be a connection.

When the pharaoh saw how upset his partner looked, he added with a bit of a sigh, _/But I suppose you may be right after all, Yugi. Perhaps it was something that had nothing to do with the spirit, and he has another reason not to talk about it. Perhaps he was hurt by a spell or something of that sort, and he does not want to worry you. Or it happened under some embarrassing circumstance./_

_/Yeah, maybe,-/_ said Yugi, sighing. Then, more enthusiastically, he said, _/You could be right. And you know, I have another idea. It could have been bullies, you saw the way those kids in Bakura's own House treat him, didn't you? Maybe he's afraid if he gives us the details, you'll go hunt them down and force them to play a penalty game./_ Yugi winked jokingly, but underneath it he did indeed seem satisfied with this alternative.

The pharaoh could barely suppress a smile. The pharaoh gave a dignified little cough, pretending to be insulted that Yugi could even suggest such a thing. But then his expression grew serious again. _/Well, I think we ought to find out the truth for certain from an authentic source before we start throwing off our armor,-/ _he cautioned._ /We still don't know for sure that it **is** an injury and we can't be certain that the 'other Bakura' has nothing to do with it./_

Yugi nodded. _/Yeah, you're right. But I would hate for Bakura to find out we were asking around about him. Why don't we just ask him?-/_

_/Well, for one thing,-/ _said the pharaoh,_ /like I said before, I believe Bakura isn't so unaware of the spirit's presence as he's letting on. He might have some reason for not wanting to discuss the matter with us and our asking might cause problems for him, especially if the spirit is indeed involved. At the very least, we know he is up to **something**, and I am afraid that even just asking would give our enemy too much insight into what we knew and what we were trying to find out. Since he likes it so much, I think we ought to keep the spirit in the dark as best we can. Bakura will understand./_

_/I hope you're right,'/_ Yugi said, staring up at the ceiling. They both sat in silence for a long while until Yugi propped himself up onto his elbow and spoke up again, on a different subject. _/Other Self.../_ he said tentatively.

_/Yes, Yugi?-/_ the pharaoh answered.

_/What do you think about Shadi? Should I have told Bakura that he was the one who brought us here?-/_

_/I believe that would have been unwise,-/_ said the pharaoh. _/You did the right thing. Like I said, the less _**_he_**_ knows the better, I think./_

Yugi bit his lip, not entirely satisfied for some reason. It just didn't feel right hiding so much from a friend, even if it was all to hide it from a deadly enemy. It was almost like treating the real Bakura as their enemy.

Yugi shook his head, deciding to let it go for the moment. _/So what do you think Shadi wants?-/_ he asked. _/Just showing up and then dropping us on Hogwarts' doorstep like he did.../_

_/Playing whatever sick game he always is,-/_ said the pharaoh scathingly. _/He didn't impress me.-/_

Yugi shrugged. _/Yeah, I guess so. What was it he said again?-/_

_/Not much. But he seemed to think that something unnatural was happening here. Something we needed to correct./_

_/Shadi didn't mention the spirit of the Ring though, did he?-/_ Yugi said thoughtfully. _/But do you think the spirit was what he was talking about?-/_

The pharaoh gazed at his partner for a moment in thought, then said finally, _/That's my guess. I don't think any of us really belong in this 'other world,' the world of wizard magic, least of all that spirit./_

_/But what would he want here?-/_ Yugi asked in frustration. _/He already has his shadow magic and it doesn't look like Bakura is actually learning anything anyway – /_

The spirit shook his head. _/No, Partner./_

Yugi stopped and gave the spirit a questioning look. _/Huh? What do you mean?-/_

_/Bakura himself has proved unable to **perform** the spells, but, with the demonstration in Defense Against the Dark Arts today, I'd say that his memorizing the incantation is more than enough./_

Yugi bit his lip, staring down at his bedsheets with sorrowful eyes. _/It's not fair, is it?-/ he said quietly after a moment. /He __**uses**__ him. Bakura does all the work, but all the benefit doesn't go to the person who earned it./ _ Yugi scowled as he gripped his bedsheets tightly, as anger slowly replaced sadness. _/That's what I hate the most,-/_ he said after moment. _/I just... hate it./_

"_**You heard your better half, you fiend."**_

...D: So, I decided... that I don't want the my replies to reviews adding so many extra words to the story. D: -(because I have the tendency to talk way too much XD) Désolé... ): I'll still answer questions (but I'll may use the reply button instead of putting it here, depending). I should probably have done this awhile ago, but I'm always so reluctant to change things. XD

But I'm still really thankful for everyone who reviews! Thank you so much! -:DDDDDD!

(earlier vers. last edited 11/3/2006)


	22. Bullying and Retaliation

YAYAYAYAY! It's finally finished! Seriously, I wrote THREE different versions for this chapter... but they were all so boring... I think this is the only half-way decent one. XD Unfortunately, I have to write chapter 23 from scratch too now, because as I change chapter 22 I have rewrite 23 to match it... But having Thanksgiving weekend to work on it helps :D

**-22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22 -22**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 22: Bullying and Retaliation

Although nothing decidedly horrible seemed to have come of their first (one hesitates to say disastrous) Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Yugi could not help but be disappointed when Bakura insisted he sit at the Slytherin table. Bakura had explained that they may get in trouble if the teachers noticed and also, the Gryffindors probably didn't appreciate his presence all that much either.

Even though it made sense, Yugi still didn't have to like it. For one thing, it had the additional unfortunate side effect of Yugi not seeing all that much of Bakura over the next few days, as they didn't have too many more classes together, so the only thing he could do was look forward to Divination.

However, when Thursday finally arrived, he was a little disappointed when he didn't see Bakura sitting in his usual lonely spot at the Slytherin table. Sighing to himself, he had no choice but to just simply sit down at the Gryffindor table with his classmates.

About the fifth time he'd glanced back at the Slytherin table to see if Bakura had by any chance shown up, one of the Gryffindors, a girl with short brown hair who possessed the usual Gryffindor gusto named Mercedes Sparr finally turned and asked, "You looking for that Slytherin, Bakura?"

"Yeah," Yugi answered, trying not to let it show on his face how much he disliked his friend being referred to as "that Slytherin."

"You were such great friends the first day," Mercedes went on. "I never got a chance to ask – what happened with that? Get into a fight over the whole stunning-thing? I've never seen that guy do much of anything besides skulk in the corner, but you two looked like you wanted to have it out right there." She appeared not the slightest bit abashed at nosing her way in others' business, but, as Yugi would soon learn, that was often the Gryffindor way, at least for certain particularly brave Gryffindors.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to freak anyone out or anything," said Yugi. "I guess you could say we're like gaming partners. So... it's like we become different people when we compete. It wasn't really..."

He paused, trying to come up with a more convincing way to explain that they weren't actually fighting without actually giving away any information. He jumped slightly and lost his concentration though as someone standing right behind him spoke.

"'Lo Yugi."

Yugi craned his neck around to see who it was and couldn't help but color when he recognized the popular Gryffindor Quidditch captain. "Hello, Harry," Yugi answered. "Um... can I help you?"

Harry seemed to hesitate for a moment. Yugi could see it in his startlingly emerald eyes, that like everyone else, he wanted to know what had happened with that timid late-starter with wild white hair and a black scarf that covered his left eye in the most conspicuous sort of way and himself. The story had spread, though Yugi wouldn't have expected it to reach the older students. But Harry seemed aware that Yugi would probably be fielding questions for awhile and perhaps did not want to contribute to the harassers.

Finally though, his curiosity must have won out over his consideration, and he said, "Well, actually, I just overheard some of what you were saying. Something happen with... Bakura, was it?"

So perhaps Harry hadn't heard the story after all. "No..." Yugi began, but Mercedes and another Gryffindor, both only too eager to get a chance to talk with Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, piped up and both began telling the story at the same time. Luckily it didn't seem Harry understood a word of what they were saying and put up a hand to stop them.

"Never mind, forget I asked. Just – " He turned to Yugi again, eyebrows raised in amazement. "Is he really in Slytherin?"

Yugi bit his lip uncomfortably and answered slowly, "Well, yes, he is... But – " He knew that, as a general rule, Gryffindors disliked Slytherins, so he felt he ought to give some explanation that Bakura wasn't like the others.

"Oh," said Harry, cutting Yugi off. He turned away, but Yugi could see the wheels in his head were turning, though over what, Yugi hadn't the foggiest. "Thanks, Yugi. Well, I'd better get going now. I'll want to eat something before Defense Against the Dark Arts." He made a face.

As Harry left, Yugi sighed a little to himself and turned back to his food. As it was, Harry probably didn't associate with Bakura that much anyway, but the two must have had some interaction if Harry knew who he was enough to be surprised at the white-haired teen's being placed in the 'cunning' House. Yugi hoped he hadn't alienated Bakura from Harry by accident by telling him what House Bakura was in.

_'Bakura, where are you?'_ he wondered sadly, shooting another glance at the Bakura's empty place at the Slytherin table. While he was looking, he happened to catch sight of the Slytherin first years (he didn't remember any of their names) out of the corner of his eye, all laughing hysterically as someone did an imitation of someone having convulsions.

Yugi felt a chill go down his spine and turned away to frown into his goblet.

...O

Awhile later, he finished with breakfast and started to stand up, silently praying that he wouldn't get lost on the way to Divination without Bakura to guide him. Other students had began to file out already, on their way to class, presumably. He tried to scan the crowd one last time for Bakura but, finding that he couldn't get a good enough view now that everyone was standing up, he sighed in disappointment and gave it up.

Starting toward the door, he hesitated as he heard the familiar, loud voices of the youngest Slytherins above the crowd.

"Finally decided to get up, did you?" sneered one.

There was only one person they could be talking to. Thinking twice, Yugi grabbed a roll from the bread bowl closest to him just as the food was magically cleared from the tables before he took off, weaving his way through the crowd in the direction of the voices.

"What's the matter? Hungry? Or maybe your scary-wary nightmares kept you up all night."

Yugi followed the sound of the hearty laughter, and finally saw them a little ways off in between the many students clad in their usual dark robes as the crowd thinned.

By now, seeing that the food was gone from the tables anyway, Bakura had turned around and begun to walk back toward the Great Hall doors he'd come through, but the Slytherins only tagged along behind him, continuing to jeer at his back.

Yugi had just about caught up to them as they exited the Great Hall. They came out into the giant hallway with Yugi close behind them, and Yugi saw that the bulk of the crowd was already gone, all on their way to their respective classes. However, a few had lagged behind to watch the spectacle of the person with strange hair and even stranger fashion sense getting bullied by kids a foot shorter than he was. The Slytherins were still making derogatory remarks about the nightmare Bakura had apparently had.

Frowning angrily, Yugi had just started forward to tell them to cut it out when, suddenly, one of the boys reached up and grabbed hold of Bakura's collar. The boy, yanking hard, forced Bakura to bend over so that his head was at the same level as his eleven-year-old roommate.

"And, one thing I'm sure _everyone_ has wanted to ask since the beginning of the year – what's with this scarf?" asked the boy, jerking his thumb at the black material wrapped around Bakura's head. The boy had sandy-blond hair and a decidedly loud obnoxious voice.

People who were observing the scene from afar exchanged glances, some looking apprehensive, but unable to hide their curiosity, while the boys all laughed again.

"If it was possible, I'd say it makes him look more ridiculous that he already is," said another one of the boys softly in a cool voice, smirking slightly. "We have to wonder, what could be so entirely awful that he needs to hide it with something so gaudy?"

The others grinned maliciously at Bakura as they chorused "Yeah, let's find out!" and "Take it off! Take it off!"

Two of the Slytherins came forward and Bakura, who had been busy trying to pry the first boy's hand off his collar, jumped back in one last attempt to get away as they grabbed hold of both his arms. He tried to pull himself free, but, too timid to really fight back, couldn't do much of anything.

Every person in the hall now had their eyes on Bakura as the boy reached for the scarf.

Furious, Yugi started to run forward, but stopped short as he saw a flash of light from Bakura's chest that no one else seemed to notice. His heart plummeted into his stomach and mumbled, "Oh, please no."

Bakura didn't move as the boy's hand got closer and, as the tip of his fingers brushed against the fabric, he lifted his head and his eye, which had been obscured by his long hair a moment before, met the boy's. "Bakura's" lips split into a smirk.

_/Other Me,-/_ Yugi said nervously, shifting from one foot from the other. _/Are you going to stop this?-/_

_/If it gets out of hand,-/ _the pharaoh answered. _/Let's wait and see./_

Yugi frowned and bit his lip in anxiety. He wasn't sure he approved of just leaving someone to the spirit's mercy, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his other self was under the impression that Bakura's bullies deserved whatever they got.

The Slytherin boy flinched and stumbled back a step. For a moment they both remained frozen in time, their gazes locked. One of the other boys, a boy with dark hair slicked back from his face, watched the scene from the background with obvious fascination.

The spirit, his eye alight with elated malice and insanity, suddenly ripped free from his captors in one fluid movement. Before anyone could react, his hand shot forward and closed around his antagonizer's neck. His grip tightened as he slowly lifted the boy off the ground.

His eyes widening and feet thrashing a foot above the ground, the boy gasped for breath and tried desperately to pry the the cold, pale hands off his neck.

None of his fellow Slytherins moved. They were still in shock from their target of abuse's sudden attack.

The spirit pulled the boy down toward himself and leaned up a little to hiss something into his ear. The boy was starting to turn blue.

_/Other self!-/_ Yugi cried, starting to panic.

_/Don't worry, Yugi. I'll handle it./_

Yugi felt the warm glow of the puzzle hanging against his chest and the pharaoh took control. The pharaoh couldn't just stand by as the spirit suffocated a student, no matter how insufferable the student might be.

The spirit had his back to him as the pharaoh started forward. He started to call out a challenge, but someone else spoke first.

"Is there a problem?"

The pharaoh stopped and turned his head to see the thin outline of Professor Snape, standing just inside the entrance of the Great Hall. As his black eyes fell on the scene of the struggle, his face betrayed no emotion. The pharaoh wondered just how long Snape had been standing there and couldn't help but be annoyed that today would just happen to be the day that Snape chose to enjoy his breakfast in the Great Hall instead of being in class before his students, like he ought. Although, the pharaoh had to admit, however grudgingly, that Snape's presence was fortunate in that it had surely prevented another confrontation with the spirit of the Ring.

"Well? If you don't hurry, you'll be late," said Snape lightly, apparently choosing to overlook the nature of the situation completely.

The spirit's dark eye met Snape's for a fraction of a second before, without replying, the spirit roughly let the boy down. Giving the boy a slight shove and, with a hint of a triumphant glint in his single eye, he turned and strode abruptly away.

A sea of mutters broke out in the hallway and they all stared at Bakura's back. Snape silenced them with a glare and they scattered to go to their classes.

As they left, Snape turned to watch Bakura himself, a curious, calculating expression on his face. In fact, so intently focused on Bakura he seemed, that the pharaoh was a little startled when Snape addressed him.

"That would be five points from Gryffindor for bringing food outside the Great Hall, Mr. Mutou."

...O

Bakura had gone back to normal by the time they got to the classroom and he'd taken the roll Yugi had brought him gratefully. Yugi was glad for this, but it still worried him. He wanted to talk to Bakura, but he didn't know how to go about it. He was more afraid than ever of saying or doing the wrong thing.

After Divination, the two of them split up to go to their respective common rooms to drop their bags off so that they wouldn't have to lug them around all through lunch. Yugi hurried up the stairs that led to the dormitories and unceremoniously threw his things on the floor next to his bed.

Sighing, he stretched. Not only was Divination long and boring, but Bakura had been right when he'd described it as being "the art of pretending you can see the future."

_/Yugi,-/_ said a voice, and Yugi jumped.

_/Oh it's you, Other Self,-/_ said Yugi, breathing again. _/What, want to talk about Divination? I know we know from Ishizu that seeing the future is possible, but I still couldn't quite bring myself to be too impressed.../_ He knew he was babbling, but for some reason he found himself nervous about talking about what his other self surely wanted to discuss. His forced grin faltered as he saw how serious the expression of the ghost image of his other self standing next to him in the dim afternoon light streaming through the windows was.

_/No,-/_ said the pharaoh. _/I wanted to talk about this morning./_

"Oh, that," said Yugi aloud, laughing nervously. _/What about it? I know it was kind of scary, but... at least he was protecting Bakura. For once. Or I guess... like at Battle City./_

_/As at Battle City, I don't think it was about protecting Bakura,-/_ said the pharaoh, shaking his head. _/He was only stopping them from seeing what it was underneath his scarf./_

Yugi frowned, biting his lip. He'd been afraid that his other self would come to that conclusion. He'd been trying not to think about it all class. _/So?-/_ Yugi said tentatively.

_/So, now we know he's definitely hiding something that he doesn't want anyone to see. And that it is the spirit that is hiding it./_

Yugi sat down on the bed, and held his puzzle in his hands. "I know," he said with a sigh.

_/I have a bad feeling about it, Yugi,-/_ said the pharaoh quietly._ /Something isn't right.../_

...O

Downstairs, Yugi saw that most everyone in the common room was already gone to lunch. As he headed toward the door, he happened to notice Neville Longbottom, a round-faced, accident-prone sixth year, standing over by the notice boards. Even though a lot of people looked down on him for being somewhat (okay, _extremely_) unskilled with a wand and rather bumbling in general, right from the start Yugi couldn't help but like him. Neville was certainly someone he could relate to.

"Hi, Neville," he greeted as he passed, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

Neville, who'd been apparently about to write something on the notice board, dropped his quill in surprise.

Yugi winced. "Sorry," he said apologetically and went over to pick his quill up for him.

"It's okay," Neville muttered, taking the quill.

"What's that you're signing up for?" Yugi asked, gesturing at the board.

"Oh, I decided to sign up for Apparition after all," he answered, his ears turning a little pink. "I mean, I don't know if I'll be able to do it, but I just know Gran would be furious if I didn't even _try_."

"Apparition?" Yugi asked, the foreign word catching his interest. "What's that?"

"_**If this is your way of spooking the competition, you're even more hopeless than you look."**_

Dunno, this chapter probably could have been better (I should've gone over it more times), but I didn't want to deal with it anymore... XD

Thank you, thank you, thank you everyone who reviewed! And thanks for being patient with me... this chapter was a hard one.

Please r & r if you have any questions or comments! :D

(earlier vers. last edited 12/24/2006)


	23. Interrogation and Permission

Sorry this took so long... Maybe I'll have twenty-four up a little faster? D:

**-23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23 -23**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 23: Interrogation and Permission

After Divination finally let out, Bakura waved Yugi goodbye as they both headed to their own common rooms to drop their things off before lunch. In Yugi's case, that meant walking down to the to other end of the hall. For Bakura, that meant lugging his bag down seven flights of stairs and navigating the long, freezing labyrinthine dungeon.

Although, on the bright side, this extra time would probably mean that his Slytherin roommates would already be down at lunch by the time he reached the common room. Perhaps he wouldn't have to receive the brunt of whatever had transpired that morning right away.

He may not have had any actual memory of or even begin to guess what had occurred outside the Great Hall and Yugi hadn't dropped any hints, but he somehow doubted all the whispering and glancing his way during Divination, and questions he had deflected as best he could about 'what had happened with the other Slytherin first years' (good to see that the Hogwarts rumor mill was going full force, as always) were due to a miraculous reconciliation that meant all would be sunshine and roses with his House mates from now on.

Next time he saw his roommates they were just bound to look at him in an unpleasant way, whether they be glaring or cowering. Of course, that was if Olseth and his gang of Slytherins still had their souls intact and weren't now in need of polishing instead of showers.

"Hey – Hey! Hey, Bakura!"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Bakura turned his head to see where the voice was coming from and was a little surprised to see Harry, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, jogging toward him.

Bakura hesitated for a second, trying to make up his mind. He could stay here and wait to see what Harry wanted, or he could pretend he hadn't heard him and keep on walking. It wasn't as though he was trying to be rude or anything, especially after Harry had been so nice to him back in November, but if you added that Harry was a popular Gryffindor and that he was a backward Slytherin... well, in all honesty he dreaded this interaction. Even more so since as he came to see more and more the hostility between the two Houses, and was now almost positive that Harry and his friend couldn't have known he was in Slytherin before, but he must know by now.

"Hey," said Harry again, though he didn't have to yell it this time as he came right up to walk beside him.

Yes, it was pointless. Bakura just could never bring himself to do anything rude, even if this somehow turned out to be the biggest regret of his life. Even if he hadn't been eager to not appear to be as obnoxious and self-centered as most Slytherins, it was simply not in his nature.

Harry took a moment to breathe deeply, though he wasn't the least bit winded. He was a kind of athlete after all.

"Hello, Harry," said Bakura, his voice barely audible, even to himself. He thought about adding something else on like, "How are you?" or "It's been awhile, hasn't it?" but his throat was strangely tight. He just couldn't get out of head that Harry – practically the symbol of Gryffindor itself – was here, trying to have a regular conversation with the Slytherin seventeen-year-old first year who'd nearly fallen off a broom on his first try. It was just too out-of-character for the reality of life.

"So, where are you headed?" Harry asked casually.

"The Slytherin common r-room," Bakura answered, both his arms and legs feeling stiff with nerves. Perhaps, if on some off-chance Harry did not know he was in Slytherin, clearly elucidating the fact would prevent anyone thinking Bakura had been misleading on purpose. He would give Harry the option to ditch him if he wanted.

"Oh, that's down in the dungeons, isn't it?" Harry said casually, apparently oblivious to Bakura's discomfort. "Mind if I walk with you a ways?"

Bakura, thoroughly disconcerted now, could only wonder if an entire star system was out of alignment somewhere as he answered slowly, "Ah, if you want to..." A thought occurred to him that Harry may be being so nice because he wanted something out of him, though Bakura couldn't for the life of him begin to guess what. Even more likely was that Harry was setting him up for some kind of practical joke. Someone with a bit more nerve might have turned and asked the taller boy directly, or accused him of having one of these motivations, but Bakura said nothing.

As the two of them walked toward the staircase that led to sixth floor, Bakura carefully kept his gaze focused on the path in front of him, though he could feel Harry watching him.

"The Slytherin common room," said Harry after awhile. "So, I guess that means you're definitely in Slytherin. I heard that before, but I have to say I was pretty surprised by it."

Again, Bakura said nothing. It surprised a lot of people, no one less than the Slytherins themselves.

"Right," said Harry suddenly, apparently nodding to himself. There was a brief silence before Harry spoke again, his voice holding the tone of someone who was carefully trying to sound casual while asking something that wasn't casual at all, "By the way Bakura, you wouldn't know someone named Draco Malfoy by any chance, would you? He's in Slytherin too."

Before Bakura could answer, the sound of a loud voice right behind them made him jump.

"_You_!" cried the voice accusingly and both Harry and Bakura spun around to see a glaring redhead.

"Er, me," Harry confirmed, temporarily confused before he saw that the new addition to the conversation's attention was directed at Bakura. "What is it, Ron?" Harry asked, glancing back and forth between the two. "What's wrong?"

"_He's_ what's wrong," said Ron, now looking Bakura up and down, a suspicious expression on his face. "Remember me?" he asked Bakura, eyes narrowed.

All Bakura could do was shake his head lamely. "You're... You're Gryffindor's Quidditch Keeper," he offered finally, unable to think of anything else.

"Yeah, I am," said Ron. "But I _meant_ about when we were on the carriages. I still haven't given you a piece of my mind – "

Bakura involuntarily took a small step back and a bead of sweat broke out on his temple. Yes, he was sure someone, somewhere had mentioned something about the carriages to him before, a long time ago. He might as well forget worrying about what the spirit had done with his body that morning, he still couldn't get away from things that had happened all the way back in September.

"Remember now?" Ron pressed and Bakura tried to think of something to say that would be sure not to aggravate the situation, though not knowing exactly what he might have done didn't help.

...O

"What are you going on about?" Harry asked.

"We met earlier this year," said Ron, still attempting to stare Bakura down, apparently not realizing that intimidating this particular Slytherin did not take a lot of effort.

"Come on, Ron," said Harry reasonably. "What did he do to you?" Harry thought to himself that it certainly wasn't fair for Ron to take out his recent frustrations with Lavender (Ron's enthusiasm about having a girlfriend seemed to have all but faded) on the timid first year who Harry suspected of being entirely unable to defend himself. A part of him had a notion to just drag Ron away entirely, but he decided against it. He hadn't gotten a chance to ask the boy about Malfoy yet.

Ron, apparently annoyed when Harry didn't take his side of things, frowned at him. "Something," he said defensively. "You weren't there, but on the carriage..."

Bakura spoke up before Ron could continue. "Well... I'm sorry, but I really need to go now." He turned around and took a few rigid steps before he turned his head back halfway around and added tentatively, "And... And I'm sorry about – about before. That was... I mean, I can't always..."

He shrugged and turned away again. Then, without a second look back, he took off down the hall and vanished around the corner that led to the staircase.

Harry watched Bakura go, not sure what to think. Being a Slytherin, of course he was bound to have some bad qualities, but Harry had been so sure that the quiet, unsure first year was a nice person overall. He'd would've been more sure of Neville getting an 'O' in Transfiguration than Bakura doing anything assertive, let alone aggressive. But maybe...

"Ron, exactly what _did_ he do on the carriages?" Harry asked curiously.

When Ron explained how Bakura had rudely forced his way onto _their_ carriage and then seemed content to completely ignore them, refusing to even give them his name, Harry was shocked.

"Seriously, you mean you stopped me questioning him about Malfoyover something like that?"

...O

Downstairs, Yugi was waiting impatiently for Bakura to arrive. Now, where could he be? Sure, Yugi might have been so excited that he ran top speed down every staircase between the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall, but Bakura had surely had plenty of time to get to his common room and back by now.

He paced back and forth outside the great hall, keeping off to the side of the doors so as to not impede traffic by standing in front of them, shooting a glance every now and again at the staircase that led down to the dungeons. He considered for a moment just going down to the dungeons himself and meeting Bakura partway, but he realized sadly that he had absolutely no idea where the Slytherin common room even was down in the dungeons, so he'd probably just end up lost. This turned out to be pretty fortunate, as right then Bakura appeared taking the last few steps down from the staircase that led up to the next floor, still holding his school bags.

"Bakura!" Yugi cried, running over to him. "You haven't even gotten to your common room yet?"

Bakura, who'd looked like he'd been deep in thought a moment before, fumbled for an answer, but Yugi had lost interest by then and instead went on. "Want to guess what I just heard about?" he asked, looking eager.

"Ah... what?" Bakura asked, less than enthusiastically. Then, feeling guilty, he forced himself to change gears from his previous thoughts. "What is it?" he repeated, trying to sound more cheerful.

Yugi noticed Bakura's distraction, but too excited to stop now, Yugi elaborated, "They're holding a new class. Advanced wizard transportation! Why don't we sign up, Bakura?"

If Bakura's smile hadn't been fixed before, it certainly was now. "Wizard... transportation, is it?" said Bakura slowly, a rather unpleasant image involving a magic broomstick except more complicated to control leaping to his mind. He steeled himself to argue with Yugi about signing up to the bitter end and, determined to show Yugi how final his decision was, began his argument with a confident "Well... I don't know..."

"It's called 'Apparition'," Yugi explained, "and it's a lot like teleporting. It sounds like so much fun, doesn't it Bakura?"

Bakura glanced around at the students talking to their friends as they wandered into the Great Hall for lunch as though he was looking for someone to rescue him from answering this question truthfully.

"W-Well... yes, it sounds..." Bakura began, but then cut himself off, remembering the broom lessons again.

"Yugi," he began seriously, looking his friend straight in the eye, "It does sound fun, I'll admit. But... even if I wanted to, I don't think I'll have time for these lessons. I have a lot of homework and..." He searched for other excuses. He couldn't just come out and admit that he was afraid of making a complete fool of himself like he had in the broom episode.

"Don't worry about that," Yugi said, his excitement not dampened in the least. "We only have the lessons on Saturdays and they aren't that long. Besides, I'll help you out if it gets to be too much. Meet me at the Transfiguration classroom after school, all right? See you there, Bakura!" Yugi turned around and ran into the Great Hall, leaving Bakura to figure out what had just happened.

"But – But – " he tried, though it was a little late to do any good at this point. Sighing, Bakura shifted the weight of his bag on his shoulder and trudged slowly toward the staircase that led down to the dungeons, muttering under his breath, "What a day, what a day..."

After school, Bakura dropped his things off at the common room and then went straight to the Transfiguration classroom, like Yugi had said, and found that Yugi was already waiting for him there.

"I'm glad you decided to come, Bakura," said Yugi happily as Bakura came up next to him. "For a minute there, I thought you might have decided not to come."

Bakura saw that Yugi still had his schoolbag, which meant he'd come straight here after classes. Bakura wouldn't have been surprised if Yugi had run all the way here and been waiting since two minutes after the bell.

"Sorry if I kept you waiting, Yugi," he apologized. "I had to go all the way down to our common room and..."

Yugi shrugged it off. "Doesn't matter. You're here, aren't you, Bakura? Let's go," he said, smiling and gestured toward the open door.

Bakura smiled and nodded, then hesitated. "Yugi..." he began.

Yugi, suddenly remembering something, spoke again, oblivious to Bakura. "Oh, so you know the sign-up only specifies that you have to be seventeen by next August?"

Bakura closed his mouth again and nodded. Well, he knew now in any case.

Yugi nodded too and went on, "That means we qualify easy, but since we're such late-starters, I thought we should ask for one of the teachers' opinions first. Professor McGonagall will know what we should do. I'd love to take it, but if it requires knowledge from other years that we haven't had or anything, maybe we shouldn't sign up..." He trailed off thoughtfully.

"Oh, yes," said Bakura, feeling a spark of hope. "That makes sense." He stopped, thinking, then sighed to himself. No, he'd better not rely on the off-chance that Professor McGonagall would advise them against taking this – whatever it was.

"Uh, Yugi..." he started again.

"What is it, Bakura?" Yugi asked, noticing him this time, and gave him a concerned look. "Something wrong?"

"Even if she says 'yes'... I don't think I should sign up." Yugi just looked at him blankly, as though something was not quite registering. Bakura quickly went on, "You can still take them of course, but I just don't think I..."

"Oh, why not?" said Yugi, his voice curious rather than disappointed. Yugi didn't seem to have any reason to think Bakura was decided enough on the subject to put up much of an argument if he only cajoled him a little. But Bakura's mind was definitely made up.

"Because I..." Whatever he said, he had to be careful to keep his tone light-hearted. He didn't want to make Yugi feel bad or upset about something that was out of his control. "Well, you know, I've got so many other things I've got to do and I'd prefer to concentrate on that right now."

_'So,' _he thought sardonically to himself, _'I wonder if anyone would like to place bets on what the chances of Professor McGonagall giving the okay for me to take advanced classes when I can't perform a single spell from my own grade level.'_ Actually, he'd probably be lucky if she just said 'no.' If he was her, he'd probably burst out laughing.

Yugi shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, lessons are only about an hour long and only on Saturdays, so I don't think it will be that big a deal. And it's not like they're going to be giving out homework or anything."

"That's true," said Bakura. "But..."

"It'll be fine," Yugi assured him and Bakura mentally winced. Now was one of those times that he wished he'd practiced the 'n' word a little more back in grade school.

"Listen... Just don't include me when you ask McGonagall. I just – they sound fun and everything, but – "

"Come in, Mr. Mutou, Mr. Bakura," came a voice from within the classroom and they both jumped.

"You first," Bakura whispered as the two of them shared a glance and Yugi nodded slightly, though he suddenly looked more nervous than eager. As the two of them approached her desk where she was busily grading papers, Professor McGonagall set her quill down and looked up to give them her full attention.

"Now, what can I do for you?" she asked.

Bakura's eye flickered to the stack of papers that she'd been grading and wondered what percentage of it was his. He had to do so much extra written work because of his failed spell casting that he guessed, his work in this class must add thirty minutes of grading to the Professor's day at least.

"W-Well, Professor," Yugi began nervously, "I... I just, uh – I just came to get my language charm renewed."

Bakura shot Yugi a surprised glance. Of course, now that it had come down to it, even Yugi was nervous about asking the Professor about taking advanced classes, simply because he might find out that it was too outrageous to even suggest, but what was this about a language charm?

"Oh, is that so?" said Professor McGonagall, sounding vaguely surprised. "I wasn't expecting you for a couple more days."

Yugi looked embarrassed and replied with a sort of half-shrug, and Professor McGonagall didn't bother to press the issue.

Reaching into her robes, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at Yugi. After muttering a considerably long incantation, a purple mist wafted from the tip and encircled Yugi's head.

"What about you, Mr. Bakura?" McGonagall asked, turning to him while Yugi was busy inhaling the purple fumes. "What brings you here?"

Bakura, fascinated by what was going on with his friend, was a little caught off-guard. "Oh, I was just accompanying..." Bakura gestured at Yugi, who was now coughing and waving his hand frantically in front of his face, the mist now apparently choking him.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I see. I'm glad to confirm that you're indeed friends, as you appeared to be over the holiday. Professor Snape was under the impression that you two held some sort of animosity toward one another."

Bakura shifted uncomfortably for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer. Luckily Yugi, who didn't seem to have been listening to their conversation at all, came to his rescue.

"Th-Thank you, Professor," said Yugi, his eyes watering. "I think it's done now."

"Your very welcome, Mr. Mutou," said Professor McGonagall, replacing her wand in her robes. "I'll see you again Tuesday." She picked up her quill and the two of them became non-existent once again as she continued grading papers.

"Uh," said Yugi, sharing a glance with Bakura. Apparently that hadn't exactly worked out like Yugi had hoped.

"Also, Yugi was – I mean, we were wondering..." Bakura began as he attempted to help Yugi out. He changed it to 'we' at the last minute out of habit. He somehow felt rude trying to assume what Yugi wanted.

"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, looking back up. She didn't look impatient, but Bakura still felt nervous all the same.

"...About Apparition," Yugi finished, finally coming out of his frozen state.

"Apparition," she repeated. "Yes, the sixth years sign up to take it around this time every year. What about it?"

"Yes, well," Yugi started, his face slowly starting to color, "I was just wondering if – if maybe we could take it too." His voice caught on the last word.

Her eyebrows shot upward in surprise. "You two want to take Apparition?"

Bakura felt that this was a good time to jump in and correct her. Rude or not, he wished he hadn't said 'we' before, because he wanted to make it clear that he had no intention of presuming to even attempt to take such an advanced class. But just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, she went on.

"Well, you can only take it if you'll be seventeen by next August. Mr. Bakura, you're probably old enough. However Mr. Mutou, I don't think – "

"I'm old enough too!" Yugi said suddenly, in a slightly raised voice and Bakura had to hide a smile at the indignant look on Yugi's face. Yugi came back to himself and flushed, looking down at his feet. "I mean," he muttered, "I'm turning seventeen in June, so..."

Bakura honestly couldn't tell whether Professor McGonagall's was more surprised at her usually shy student's sudden outburst, or that Yugi was really sixteen. She set down her quill again, looking thoughtful.

"Well, if you're the right age, I think anyone would agree with me that it wouldn't be fair to keep you from taking the lessons if that's really what you wanted to do. However, I'd advise you to think it over carefully. If you're afraid Apparition may be beyond your current skill level – " Bakura thought he saw her gaze flicker to him for a moment – "then you certainly wouldn't want to waste twelve galleons on something you aren't able to learn just yet."

"Okay," said Yugi, nodding. "Thank you very much, Professor." He turned to leave.

"I – I wasn't – " Bakura sputtered, hanging behind. He knew he ought to just leave with Yugi at that point, but he felt compelled to explain. Explain that he wasn't stupidly arrogant enough to think he'd actually be any good at Apparition.

He lost his chance however, as Professor McGonagall spoke again, "Mr. Bakura, I think you ought to talk to your own Head of House about this, not me, if you want permission. Professor Snape is technically the one with the authority over you."

Bakura swallowed his words and muttered, trying to keep the less-than-gratefulness out of his tone, "Thank you, Professor."

The two of them left the room and, as they came outside, Bakura saw that Yugi was staring at the floor with a rather disappointed look on his face. He wondered what could be wrong. It sounded as though it had gone just about as perfectly as Yugi could have wanted.

"What's wrong? I'm sorry, I..." But he realized he wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for.

"Nothing," said Yugi, still looking at at the floor. Why did it seem like the more time they spent together in this castle, the more awkward their relationship became? Yugi shook his head then, looking up to smile at Bakura, though he still seemed a little sad. "I would have liked to take it with you is all, Bakura. But I know you didn't really want to... I just thought if Professor McGonagall said it was alright, you might change your mind." He was thoughtful for a moment, then blinked and added quickly, "Not that I would have forced you anyway, even if she had said it was fine or anything."

Yugi looked away again. Suddenly, he sighed and stretched. "Anyway then, I think I'll go down to the library now to work on my homework. Want to come, Bakura?" He smiled up at Bakura, expression back it's usual carefree, enthusiastic state.

But Bakura didn't reply right away, confused. Professor McGonagall hadn't actually told he couldn't take it, so why was Yugi so down and talking as though she had?

"_I think you ought to talk to your own Head of House about this if you want permission."_

Bakura understood. If he wanted to take Apparition, he would have to go to Professor Snape. Yugi knew how intimidated Bakura was by their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, so he wasn't going to encourage Bakura to do something that scared him for the sake of something he didn't want to do. Especially since Professor Snape had a tendency to sneer at the shortcomings of the more inept students, though Bakura had managed to escape the professor's notice for the most part by being in Slytherin house.

Well, this was all probably for the best. He wouldn't have been able to ever learn Appar-whatever anyway.

"But you're still going to take it though, aren't you?" he said, feeling a bit more cheerful despite Yugi's disappointment. "You'll have to tell me all about the lessons later – "

"Yeah, okay," said Yugi, smiling. "It'd be more fun with you there, but I guess it can't be helped, you know?"

Bakura smiled back. "Yes, I guess – "

But Bakura suddenly cut himself off, a look of complete and total calm coming over his face. He looked away from Yugi to stare down the long hallway.

"Bakura?" said Yugi, concerned. "What is it?"

Bakura didn't seem to be listening, his expression distant and his eye focused on one of the flickering candles that lined the cold hallway. He finally turned his head to look at Yugi, and Yugi was startled to see that his expression was rather devoid of emotion. "Hmm?" he said distantly, then replied softly to Yugi's question, "Ah, it's nothing. Sorry to space out on you. Just... I'm sorry, but I just remembered. I need to go talk to Professor Snape about something."

"What? Why?" Yugi asked in surprise.

Bakura shrugged. "About Apparition of course," he said. His voice was as dull and unreadable as his expression.

Yugi's eyes widened before his mouth broke into a wide smile. "Really? You're really going to ask him?"

"Yes," was Bakura's simple answer. He gently added as an afterthought, "Don't get your hopes up though, he still might not let me."

Yugi, a little thrown off by Bakura strange attitude and even stranger willingness to go talk to Professor Snape, hesitated for a moment. He didn't like Bakura's tone, it seemed so... off. He didn't like the idea of Bakura forcing himself to do anything just to make him happy.

"Really Bakura, you know you don't have to take it if you don't want to. I was just – "

"But I want to," Bakura said, cutting Yugi off, staring blankly down the hall again. "I decided, I want to take Apparition after all. You're right, I think it would be fun."

"Okay..." said Yugi, his eyebrows still knitted in worry. "Well, let's go then."

"No," said Bakura a little sharply and Yugi stopped, startled.

"What is it?" Yugi asked, confused. Perhaps Bakura had changed his mind again.

"It's nothing," Bakura answered, his voice even more eerily blank than before. "I was just thinking that, since it's Snape, it would be better if I didn't go with a Gryffindor. Don't you agree? Nothing against you, Yugi."

"Oh," said Yugi, a little taken aback by Bakura's bluntness. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But at least I could wait outside the door, if you wanted."

"No," said Bakura again, though not as crisply as before. "Thank you, but why don't you just go to the library and get started on your homework. I'll be along shortly."

"Oh... okay," said Yugi, knowing that Bakura was absolutely right, but still feeling a little hurt. It almost felt like Bakura was irritate with him. "Okay, I'll just..."

But Bakura was already gone, having taken off briskly toward the staircase that led to the next floor down.

...O

In his office, sat Professor Snape, grading papers as usual. Though his classroom was now several floors above him, he had still chosen to retain his cold dungeon office not so far from his old Potions classroom rather than take a new one that would be nearer to his Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Snape quickly scribbled a number in neat, tiny handwriting in the corner of each page, his eyes spending more time on the name written at the top of the parchment rather than on the material itself. Just as he came to a paper with "Harry Potter" written in the top right-hand corner, there came an unexpected knock at the door.

"Come in," said Snape and he lifted his head in time to see a thin boy with long white hair and only one visible eye step into the room, an uncharacteristic grace in his step.

"Good afternoon, Professor," he said.

Snape did not return the greeting however and said a little impatiently, "Can I help you, Mr. Bakura?"

Bakura's lips curled into an unpleasant smile.

"_**Excuse me for not being loyal to a kingdom that destroyed my home."**_

Thank you everyone who reviewed for your support!

(original vers. last edited 1/19/2007)


	24. First Apparition Lesson

Agggghhhh... I just learned that HP book seven, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is coming out... This. SUMMER. You'd think as a HP fan I'd be ecstatic, but... considering my goal for this fic was to have it out before book seven came out, I just can't bring myself to be all that happy about it. Ohhhhh, I thought I would have at least a whole another year and I was even worried about finishing in that length of time...

But enough of my complaining; I still want to get it out before book seven comes out, so I've decided I'm going to try and update about every two weeks, so updates should be a whole lot faster. (: Although, I'm a little worried that it won't give everyone enough time to read and the chapters will just pile up, and I'm even more worried that it'll sacrifice the quality of the chapters(more typos... etc.), at least to a certain extent. I don't know how long my resolve to update every two weeks will last, but I'm almost certain that if I don't get at least most of this fic finished before book seven, I won't be able to find the inspiration to finish... D:

**-24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24 -24**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 24: First Apparition Lesson

The morning of Saturday arrived and the students were informed that the Apparition lessons, which under normal circumstances would have been held on the grounds, would take place in the Great Hall because of rain.

Half-an-hour before the lessons were due to start, Bakura laid in his bed in the first year dormitory, staring up at the rock ceiling, the textbooks he had been reading spread out all around him. Though the dungeon room had no windows, Bakura could still feel the dreary weather outside, pressing down on him as he wondered whether Yugi was already upstairs, getting ready to go to his first Apparition lesson.

Bakura had thought he'd gotten the idea that he wasn't taking Apparition across clearly, but he still couldn't help but worry that Yugi was expecting him to be there. After all, whenever the subject of Apparition came up, for some reason Yugi always tended to talk as though Bakura had definitely agreed to take it when the fact was he hadn't even signed up. However, whenever he'd try to speak up to kindly correct Yugi on this matter, he'd blink and find that they were on a completely different subject.

It made him nervous, because it was strange and he felt like he was missing something – and strange plus missing something usually equaled the spirit of the Millennium Ring.

Bakura tensed as the beeping of someone's alarm clock going off startled him. Wondering who in the world would set their alarm clock for so late in the morning (or bother setting it at all on a Saturday for that matter), he sat up and shot a look in the direction of the closed curtains hanging around his bed.

"Whose is that?" demanded Olseth's loud voice and the other angry voices of the other Slytherins soon accompanied it.

Of course, Bakura knew that the alarm probably hadn't actually woken any of them up; they just liked being annoyed. Well, at least he knew it wasn't his. He certainly hadn't set his alarm for this time.

When the alarm clock wasn't shut off right away, Bakura reached for the curtains to draw them back, curious to see whose it was and how the other Slytherins would react. His hand stopped and his entire body went temporarily still. He closed his hand into a fist and drew it back, his hair falling down over his eye.

_'It's time.'_

The voices of the other Slytherins began to grow louder and more accusing as the bleeping alarm's whine increased in volume and they demanded that whoever it belonged to shut the thing off amidst a maelstrom of threats and curses.

Suddenly, his hand shot forward and he yanked the curtains back with such force that it caused all the Slytherins to go temporarily silent as they turned around to stare at him. One hand still on the curtain, the other moved over to hit the button on top of the alarm next to his bed, and the high-pitched noise immediately ceased.

"Just getting up?" sneered Olseth, though he wavered a little as the other first year's piercing gaze snapped to him. Olseth hadn't forgotten the incident from the other day and he pulled nervously at his collar, though still glaring defiantly.

The Slytherins watched as their roommate got smoothly to his feet and started toward the door.

"Where are you going?" asked one of the boys, though what would have usually been the harsh, rather demanding sort of tone all the Slytherins always used with the older first year, came out sounding rather intimidated.

"Apparition lessons are today" was the only reply.

"Don't be stupid," said Olseth, finally regaining his voice. "Apparition is only for sixth years."

But the older first year was already gone, closing the door behind him as he walked off down the short corridor that led to the Slytherin common room.

"What a weirdo," said Olseth, frowning at the door.

"I think the question is," said Astrava quietly, thoughtful. "Is he just a wimp, or a psychopath pretending to be a wimp?"

The other boys exchanged glances.

"Hey..." said one of the boys after a moment, shooting a glance at the door. "Do you really think he's taking Apparition?"

Astrava said nothing and even Olseth hesitated. It was eventually Olseth who answered.

"No," he said, though his jealous expression said otherwise. He picked up the fanged frisbee they'd been playing with once again as he prepared to go back to what they'd been doing. "'Course he's not."

...O

Reaching the top of the staircase, the spirit saw that Yugi was already there, standing outside the Great Hall waiting for him. Neither surprised nor pleased, he tried his best to look friendly anyway. How funny it was that the spirit seemed to be having so much interaction with Yugi lately – a lot more than he would have liked.

After careful consideration, the spirit decided that it would be best to hide from his host the fact that he was signed up for Apparition until the last possible minute. If his host knew, he would no doubt make every excuse and do everything he could to try to back out. Of course, the spirit could have just threatened Bakura with the lives of his house mates again, but with the way things had been going lately, his host might decide to get wise and just screw what happened to the squad of miniature bullies. As amusing as the spirit would find this, it wouldn't exactly prove useful in maintaining at least a minimal control over the boy.

"Hi, Bakura," said Yugi cheerfully.

Also, unfortunate as it was, Yugi had suddenly decided to develop the annoying tendency to bring up the subject of Apparition in every conversation he had with Bakura – which, needless to say, meant that he was talking about it a lot. It was a wonder Bakura hadn't figured the whole deal out already with all the times the spirit had taken him over, but then, his host had always been rather slow-witted.

The spirit grudgingly returned the greeting as pleasantly as he could and the two of them entered the Great Hall, with Yugi babbling on about how fun Apparition was going to be and the spirit spoke with his host's usual polite and courteous attitude, though he gave only the minimal responses of just nodding or even "Yes, that's right" every once in a while.

As all the sixth years that the two first years finished gathering in the Great Hall, the Heads of Houses called for quiet and a small frail man, who turned out to be the Apparition instructor, greeted them.

The spirit was only half-listening as the man explained a little bit about the course and the rules as he pondered whether it would be best to switch places with Bakura now, or wait until a more opportune time came along. Yugi was standing just next to him right now for one thing and Bakura was sure to act at least a little suspicious when he first gained control again no matter what the spirit did, but then again, there may not be another chance later.

"...would like for each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you," the instructor was saying.

The other students around him immediately began to scuffle about, trying to get themselves a space and then struggled to keep others out of it once they had already claimed a spot. The spirit, taking this opportunity, slipped away from Yugi and moved up toward the front a little bit, at least enough to prevent Yugi from being able to see Bakura's face clearly. His host's face would be the biggest giveaway.

Then, hurriedly, while the other people were still moving around and trying to get their spaces, the spirit made the switch.

"What the... Where am I?" was Bakura's first muttered question as he peered around the crowded Great Hall. "Is it lunchtime already? Where are the tables?"

_/You're taking Apparition,-/_ said the spirit matter-of-factly. Normally, he would have liked to have taunted his host a little before revealing what was actually going on, but as the Heads of Houses arranged the last few students into suitable positions, he was a little pressed for time. _/So you had better pay attention./_

"No," Bakura whispered, a little frantically as he shot another look all around the hall. "No, I'm not. I didn't sign up – "

_/Yes, you did,-/ _said the spirit. _/Not only did you sign up, but you payed for it, too. So you'd better shut your mouth and pay attention; the old man's talking./_

"No – " Bakura breathed, and he actually sounded a bit aggravated. "You can't do this to me – "

_/Don't tell me what I can't do,-/_ the spirit hissed. _/Now, __**pay attention**__.__/ _

"I'm not learning anything anyway," Bakura continued under his breath, "so why do you keep doing this to me?" Again, strangely, the spirit though he sounded more annoyed than desperate. Perhaps he was beginning to reach his limit.

Suddenly, Bakura jumped as a wooden hoop appeared right in front of him, hovering a few inches above the ground before gravity pulled it to the floor. It wobbled like a top for a moment before going still. They quickly saw that one like it had appeared in front of every other student in the room as well. The Apparition instructor spoke again.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's: Destination, Determination, and Deliberation."

_/You're learning enough,-/_ said the spirit.

"Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired _destination_. In this case, that would be the interior of your hoop. Please concentrate on that destination now."

Bakura bit his lip, feeling a little defiant. He glanced around him at everyone else and saw that they were all doing as they were told, staring intently at their hoops. He reluctantly turned to look at his hoop as well, but didn't really concentrate though as his mind just continued to roll over his anger at the spirit, while feeling rather sorry for himself at the same time for being put in this position yet again.

"Step two," the instructor went on, "Focus your _determination_ to occupy the visualized space – let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body."

Bakura continued to stare at the hoop, but the only thing flooding to every particle of his body was annoyance that he was here at all.

Curiously, the spirit watched the scene from his soul room. Apparition appeared to be a little different from the other spells they had learned so far. The instructor hadn't even mentioned their wands and there didn't seem to be any incantation for his host to memorize either.

"Step three – and only when I give the command – turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with _deliberation_. On my command, now... one, two – "

Mildly surprised that that was all there was to it in Apparating, Bakura looked around to check and see whether the others looked like they were ready to Apparate yet. None of them did.

The spirit found himself wondering vaguely how the Apparition lessons could possibly be dragged out for twelve weeks when it was so simple that they were already supposed to be trying it out.

"Three!" cried the instructor.

Rather than actually trying it himself, Bakura's eye swept the room again to see how the others were doing and to see what 'Apparating' really looked like.

Not a single person in the room managed to Apparate, however, though they all looked like they were on the verge of losing their balance and falling over from their attempt to 'turn on the spot.' Bakura caught sight of Yugi a ways back behind and saw that his friend hadn't done any better. Well, that settled it. If everyone was this miserable, he certainly didn't stand a chance.

Everyone adjusted their hoops and tried again. This time, Bakura spun on the spot too, if only to at least look like he was putting in a good honest effort to learn to Apparate.

The spirit wasn't sure whether to order his host to take it more seriously whether he would ever be able to Apparate or not, or laugh at his sad antics.

Again, no one managed to Apparate. The third time proved to be no better. On the fourth try however, something finally happened when one person actually managed to Apparate... sort of.

The girl had managed to disappear from her original spot and reappear inside her hoop, like she was supposed to, except that one of her legs had somehow been left behind and was still standing where she had been a moment before. The Heads of Houses put her back together in a hurry, but she still looked horrified.

"Splinching," came the unsympathetic voice of the instructor, "or the separation of random body parts, occurs when the mind is insufficiently _determined_. You must concentrate continuously upon your _destination_, and move without haste, but with _deliberation_..."

"And here I thought not being able to come close to Apparating would be a bad thing," Bakura muttered to himself, and the spirit mentally smirked before falling into thought.

Apparition was definitely unlike any of the spells Bakura had learned in the past – sheer magical ability and incantations had nothing to do with it at all. It had to do with the state of mind. One's thoughts had to be perfectly balanced and in total concentration without any haste. All the elements had to come together just right, the subtleties perfectly grasped, or else it wouldn't work. _Destination_,_ determination_,and_ deliberation_... Poor, incompetent Bakura would never learn this.

Without warning, the spirit seized control again. It was time for the fifth try. He stood at the ready, focusing hard on his hoop...

...O

After the hour-long Apparition lesson, Harry and Ron were walking out of the Great Hall. Though neither of them had managed to Apparate, they could still gratify themselves in that no one else had managed it either in all the times that they'd tried it.

Harry was only half-listening as Ron told him that he thought he'd felt a tingling on the last try. Instead, he watched Malfoy's back as the Slytherin sixth year exited the Great Hall with his usual gang of Slytherins, disappearing down the staircase that Harry knew led to the dungeon corridors where the Slytherin common room was located. He sighed.

"So how did you do, Harry?" Ron asked. "How much longer before you'll be able to Apparate, d'you think?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. I'm not really all that concerned with learning to Apparate, really..." He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of a familiar someone with long white hair, a ways ahead of them in the crowd.

"Just a second, Ron," said Harry, picking up his pace and beginning to weave his way through the crowd.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked in confusion.

"There's something I just remembered," Harry called back to him. "Meet you back in the common room, alright?"

"Well... okay..." Ron muttered, but Harry was already out of hearing range.

It wasn't long before he caught up with the timid first year and came up along side him.

"Hey Bakura," he greeted, trying his best to sound friendly. "You taking Apparition too?"

"Yes, I am," came Bakura's short reply. He glanced irritably at Harry with his single eye.

Harry hesitated in what he was going to say next, surprised. It was strange; he'd never heard Bakura sound quite like that before.

"I..." Harry started, not sure what to say and he considered going now and coming back to ask Bakura his questions when perhaps he was in a better mood. Maybe he was susceptible to violent mood swings or something, and Ron and the others had happened to catch him at a bad time.

"Anyway, how are you doing, Harry?" said Bakura unexpectedly after a rather awkward silence, his voice suddenly as polite and nice as ever, though maybe a little less shy. "Was there something you wanted to ask me?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, but didn't comment right away. Perhaps he had been imagining things.

The spirit had to be careful. For now, he just had to swallow his frustration with the cursed Apparition lessons and be as pleasant and amiable as his host was. A person like Snape may be easier to manipulate by acting shrewd and like he possessed some great hidden power, because the man had a tendency to respect people like that.

However, with someone like Harry, it was just the opposite. He respected and trusted people with good intentions and good morals, but rebelled against those who didn't. Harry would be easier to manipulate using the deceptively trustworthy personality of his host. So, just in case this Harry Potter, who was apparently pivotal in this war against the dark lord Voldemort, turned out to be useful later on, he didn't want to do anything now that would create unnecessary difficulties later on.

"Er," said Harry, a little thrown. "Yeah – do you know someone named Draco Malfoy by any chance? He's in Slytherin House too."

"Yes, I know him," answered the spirit. Already knowing what Harry was going to ask, he just continued on, "But it's strange. He's always leaving the common room and sneaking off during main events. He skipped out on Quidditch, the Halloween feast..."

"Oh?" said Harry, looking a little eager now. "And what else? Did you ever see where's he goes, or has – has he said anything strange in the common room – ?"

"Not really," said the spirit, feigning an apologetic expression. "Well, not that I know of." Then he went on, choosing his words carefully, "However, the truth is, I probably couldn't tell you much even if the entire Slytherin House knew something that the other three houses didn't. I'm not exactly... an _accepted_ member of Slytherin."

"Oh I see..." said Harry, looking disappointed.

The spirit mimicked one of his host's most friendly smiles and said, "ut if I hear anything, I'll be sure to tell you," and waved a little as Harry left.

Yugi, who had been politely hanging back a little ways away, came up to join him.

"That was Harry from my house, what did he want?" Yugi asked curiously, and Bakura gave him a startled look.

"Wha... What?" he asked lamely.

"Harry," Yugi repeated, making a vague gesture at the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain who was heading for the stairs that led up to the next floor. "What did he have to say?"

"Uh..." said Bakura. He would have liked to know that too. All he had to say was, he'd better not wake up on a broom in the middle of Quidditch match next. "He... was just saying 'hi,' I guess."

"Oh," said Yugi, looking worried as he shot another glance in Harry's direction.

"So," said Bakura, changing the subject, "is the Apparition lesson over already?"

Yugi gave him a slightly amused look. "Only about fifteen minutes ago."

"Oh," said Bakura. "Right." He wasn't sure which scenario was worse, the spirit deciding to control him all during lessons and start up a whole new vein of opportunity for him to not know half of the things he'd done or said, or being to forced to take the lessons himself.

"I can't believe not a single person managed to Apparate during the lessons," Yugi said, shaking his head. "It must be really difficult. Do you think anyone will ever really get it?"

"Well," Bakura answered slowly, "I guess we have the next eleven weeks to find out."

...O

Sunday morning, the two of them went directly to the library after breakfast. The next class would be Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts the next morning and Yugi wasn't even half done with all the summaries he was supposed to do.

Fortunately for Yugi, Bakura had been one of the few people in Snape's class who'd actually kept up with his reading and all Bakura had to do was skim over the chapters to tell Yugi what they were about and what was important. Since Yugi had already managed to do the first two chapters on his own, he wasn't completely starting from scratch, but he still had five more summaries left. He didn't have any problem getting enough information to fill up eight inches from the long chapters, but it still took awhile to get all the information down in a coherent way. By lunchtime, he'd only finished two more.

"Done with chapter six," said Yugi late that than evening, throwing down his quill and stretching. "Just one left."

Bakura looked up from his Transfiguration homework and smiled. "That's good. Do you want me to tell you about chapter seven now?"

"Yeah, in a minute," said Yugi, leaning back in his chair and looking thoroughly worn out. He sighed.

"So are you going to Hogsmeade, Bakura?" he asked.

Bakura shrugged. "Well... I don't know. Aren't only third-years and above allowed to go? Age-wise, we're old enough, but that doesn't change the fact that we're in first year... Why do you ask?"

Yugi grinned a little sheepishly. "I thought it sounded like a lot of fun when one of the third years described it to me. I was thinking of asking Professor McGonagall, like we did with Apparition."

Bakura looked down and buried his nose in his Transfiguration book once again at the mention of Apparition, but Yugi didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, I was thinking of seeing if she'd give us a couple of permission slips and then we could mail them back to our guardians to sign." Yugi stared dreamily off into space, mentally making his plans.

"You have to have a guardian sign a permission form?" Bakura asked. "Well then, that could be a problem... My father never stays in one place for very long; he's an archaeologist."

"Oh, that's right," said Yugi, crestfallen. "But maybe Grandpa could sign for both us, then."

Bakura shrugged again. "Maybe." Though he somehow doubted it worked that way. Not wanting to disappoint Yugi however, he added, "I could still try writing to my father though. Who knows? Maybe they have sort of special magic here that could locate him; or maybe he's even at home right now."

Yugi smiled, cheering back up. "Yeah, okay. I'm sure it'll all work out."

Bakura smiled too and nodded before looking back down at his homework.

Satisfied, Yugi went on talking about his plans, though McGonagall hadn't even given him a permission yet.

"Grandpa can't read English," he was saying, "which is good actually, otherwise I'd have to explain what it means by 'wizarding village.' So I'll have to write a letter in Japanese, telling him he just needs to sign it. But as long as I have this language charm, I can't write in Japanese... I guess I'd just have to wait for the charm to wear off before I wrote to him. But what if it happens to wear off in the middle of a class or something?"

"Language charm," Bakura repeated. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. I think you told me about it when you first came here, but I forgot. So it helps you speak English and I'm guessing it helps you write and read English too." He glanced down at the summaries Yugi had finished so far. "But the other day, you said to McGonagall, something about having it 'renewed'...?"

"Oh," said Yugi. "Yeah, well, they told me it was a temporary spell. It sort of 'transfigures' the mind to speak the language you want, rather than your original language. The magic scientists or whatever they're called haven't come up with a permanent version of the spell yet though, at least not one that's safe. So I have to have Professor McGonagall refresh the spell every few days. Actually, I've been thinking of having her just teach me the spell, so it won't be such of a burden, but it's supposed to be very advanced."

Yugi shrugged. Bakura found it very interesting and was going to ask more, but then Yugi picked up his quill again. "I gotta stop thinking about Hogsmeade and get to work on this last one," he said, smiling and Bakura nodded. So, after getting a brief description from Bakura, Yugi began his summary of chapter seven.

As even more time passed and it got even later, Bakura's eye began to lose focus as he stared down at his textbook and Yugi's head began to nod. Bakura gave in for a moment, closing his eye in a hope that he would regain enough strength to read another paragraph. He could just rest his eye for a moment.

_A single scream pierced the quiet dusk, followed by another, then another, until the silence had all but drowned in a sea of voices, the emotions of their hearts beating in unison. Fear. Fear marched ever onward, right toward them. Death marched toward them._

_It was not unlike any other massacre that had occurred in history – panicking villagers ran in all directions, their screams echoing through the night as mothers threw themselves over their children in some vain hope to protect them from the inevitable. The attackers' spears pierced the bodies of the ones who, in their eyes, deserved to die, and the cries of those stricken by that ever-present fear of death tore through the night._

_As one lone child huddled in fear behind a wall, concealed from the attackers' eyes, the giant cauldron of death sat mounted in the center of the city where guards continued to heap body after body into the scalding liquid. Unnoticed, the boy continued to sit in that spot, crying and shaking with terror, his very soul pierced by the horrendous sights and sounds..._

"...kura. Bakura!"

Bakura jolted awake, breathing hard. He lifted his head and looked to see that Yugi was shaking his shoulder.

"Come on, we have to go," Yugi whispered. "It's really late – if we stay out any longer, we'll get into trouble."

It took Bakura a moment to come back to reality. That's right, it was just that dream again. That nightmare. They were still in the library, working on homework. Just a normal day.

"What?" Bakura asked, having not registered anything Yugi had just said.

"Come _on_," Yugi repeated, tugging at Bakura's sleeve. "We fell asleep, so we didn't see how late it was – hurry, or we'll get detention for sure."

Bakura's eye widened as he glanced at his watch. "Let's go," he said.

Apparently glad that Bakura seemed to have finally caught on, Yugi helped Bakura finish gathering his things up and they took off. Luckily, Madame Pince seemed to be too engrossed in what she was doing to notice their exit, though if she had been paying attention she might have warned them to get out sooner than this, so maybe she'd fallen asleep.

The two of them reached the staircases, and, having to go their separate ways, gave one another a brief good-bye before Yugi took the staircase that led up to the next floor, while Bakura took the staircase down to the deep dark dungeons below.

As he reached the dungeon corridors and came within a fair proximity of the Slytherin common room, the urgency faded and he found himself thinking about the dream again as he walked.

It had been just like any of the other dreams he'd been having since Christmas break. However, he had never seen that boy before. He was the one boy the guards had missed, though Bakura wondered how he could know that.

Strange as it was, Bakura got the feeling that he knew that boy. Somehow, somewhere, that boy in his dream who had survived was a stranger, certainly, but also very much familiar.

"_**The Millennium Items test the souls of those that possess them. Those who are not worthy will be burned alive, body and soul..."**_

Looonng chapter...

Anyway, please r and r and tell me what you think. (:

(earlier vers. last edited 6/18/2008)


	25. Casual Conversation with Dumbledore

Yes! Here's chapter 25, exactly two weeks later, like I said :D. I'm determined to finish this fic, even if it kills me... Oh, and I stopped being upset about book seven coming out this summer, and now I'm just as excited as everyone else. XD But I'm still going to try to finish this fic before book seven comes out... Expect chapter 26 in two weeks. (:

**-25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25 -25**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 25: Casual Conversation with Dumbledore

"Canceled!"

"Canceled? I can't believe it...!"

Yugi came down into the Gryffindor common room to see a crowd of both annoyed and disappointed faces assembled around the notice boards.

Yugi saw a couple of his roommates sitting in the large comfortable chairs next to the fireplace and asked curiously, "What's going on?"

The first shrugged. "Dunno. I don't think it affects us first years, though."

"Oh." Yugi glanced at the crowd again and started to walk on past, but, his curiosity getting the best of him, he went up a little closer and asked, "What happened?" though it was directed more at anyone who was willing to listen, rather than anyone in particular.

Yugi looked up around at all the Gryffindors who had turned to look at him and recognized Harry first. "What's going on, Harry?" Now that he'd been around him for a couple of months and been in Apparitions lessons with him, he felt a lot less intimidated by the popular Quidditch Captain, though Yugi wouldn't consider himself much more than an acquaintance.

"Oh, the trip to Hogsmeade for tomorrow's been canceled," he explained, sighing a little as he glanced up at the notice board again.

"And it was my birthday, too," said Ron, who was standing beside him. "I needed that to balance out the fact that I have stupid Apparition on that same day..."

"The trip's been canceled?" asked Yugi, staring glumly at the board. "So much for all the work I did to get Grandpa to sign that permission slip."

Sadly, when Yugi had first written to Grandpa, the Game store owner had flatly refused to sign the form. This was mostly because he couldn't read English and therefore didn't know what he was agreeing to. Well, he couldn't argue with his Grandpa's logic on that one, but it still proved rather inconvenient for the older first year Gryffindor.

The two of them continued to correspond for some time after that, arguing back and forth (Grandpa ceased commenting on the strangeness of sending and receiving mail by owl after the third or fourth time) until Professor McGonagall finally got him a Japanese version of the permission form to send him, which Grandpa signed without any hassle. Wish he'd thought of that before.

On the other hand, Bakura, as it turned out, didn't even need a permission form as he'd already turned seventeen. According to McGonagall, that meant he was already considered an adult – at least in the wizarding world – and so of course wouldn't need parental consent.

"But you wouldn't have been allowed to go to Hogsmeade Village anyway, would you?" Harry asked. "You're still in first year."

"Yeah, I know," said Yugi. "But I guess it's because I'm a late-starter and not a 'regular' first year. They let me take Apparition, so..."

"Oh, yeah," said Harry. He kept forgetting Yugi wasn't really an eleven-year-old like the other first years. "So did Bakura get permission to go to Hogsmeade too?" he asked conversationally.

"Oh, well he – " But Yugi was cut off as Ron suddenly jumped in.

"Why do you always hang out with him anyway?" he asked.

"I – " Yugi began, looking taken aback. "I, well, why shouldn't I?"

"Well, he's in Slytherin, isn't he?" Ron asked, as though this settled the matter. "I mean, think about it. Why would anyone in Slytherin suddenly want to be friends with someone in Gryffindor? Unless he just wanted to cheat off your homework or get inside secrets about Gryffindor Quidditch practices or something."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, debating whether he should step on Ron's foot to get him to shut up or not. He didn't really see anything particularly abnormal about Bakura and Yugi's friendship, since they were both probably the only late-starters to Hogwarts in, well, forever, so it was only natural they'd want to stick together no matter what their houses were. Even if it turned out to be true about Bakura being a bit sneakier than he appeared, Harry highly doubted Yugi would actually listen to Ron.

"W-What?" Yugi sputtered. As Harry had predicted, Yugi looked nothing short of offended.

"Bakura – You don't really – He would _never_ do anything like that. And he's the one who helps me with _my_ homework."

"You never know," Ron said darkly. "I wouldn't put anything past a Slytherin."

"Ron..." Harry warned.

"I... I know the Gryffindors hate the Slytherins," Yugi began, staring hard at the ground, his small fists shaking at his sides. "But that doesn't mean everyone in Slytherin is as evil and conscienceless as the Gryffindors think..." His eyes still had that naturally wide, overall innocent look about them, but he suddenly lifted them to stare at Ron, looking almost fierce. "And even if they are, Bakura isn't anything like the others."

They watched Yugi turn away and, though he nearly tripped over the entrance in his haste, he walked briskly through the portrait hole.

The two shared a look.

"What?" said Ron at Harry's slightly exasperated expression. This was normally Hermione's job, but he figured he better take over since she wasn't here at he moment.

...O

Meanwhile, Yugi breathed deeply to calm himself down. He knew Ron didn't intend to be mean. He was just a little unwittingly insensitive sometimes. Still, Yugi couldn't just stand by when people talked about his friends that way.

_/Are you all right, Yugi?-/_ came the calming voice of his other.

_/Yeah, I'm fine,-/ _Yugi answered, smiling despite himself. _/I just wish people knew the truth about Bakura. Then they'd know who was really to blame./_

_/I don't know if that would solve a whole lot,-/_ the Pharaoh answered. _ /People would probably just end up more afraid and shun him even more. As unfortunate as it is, most don't seem to have a great appreciation for 'whose fault it is' as long as it isn't someone they know or care for./_

Yugi sighed. "You're probably right..."

Down in the Great Hall, Bakura didn't seem all that surprised to find out about the canceled Hogsmeade trip.

"It's only natural after what happened at the last one," he said, taking the roll Yugi had picked up for him from the end of the Gryffindor table as the two of them stood off to one side. While the other students continued wandering in, they weren't too conspicuous so they could talk awhile before going to sit at their own tables.

"Why? What happened?" Yugi asked through a mouthful of toast.

"Well," said Bakura, pausing for a moment to finish chewing a piece of his roll, "there was a girl who was attacked. You know, Katie Bell, one of the Quidditch players for Gryffindor. It was a cursed... I mean, I don't really know any of the details, but it was pretty serious. She's still in the hospital now, I think." Bakura glanced away.

After thinking it over, he'd figured that the chances that it had been _his_ cursed necklace that had injured the girl were relatively small, but he still couldn't help but find the whole subject rather uncomfortable. Yes, he was always getting himself senselessly worked up over the smallest things, but he couldn't help it.

"Oh," said Yugi sadly, also looking away. "I'm sorry to hear that."

An awkward silence followed and Bakura quickly spoke up again to try to lighten the mood.

"So – what are we going to do tomorrow if we can't go to Hogsmeade?" he asked.

"Hm, I dunno," said Yugi, shaking his head. "Of course we have Apparition, but that's only an hour, so we'll have the rest of the day."

"Yes," Bakura agreed in a voice that was clearly less than enthusiastic. "Apparition."

The crowd by the door was beginning to thin now and the tables of the Great Hall were nearly filled. Unless they wanted to be the only ones standing around just waiting for his Slytherin house mates to notice and start verbal targeting practice, they probably needed to go sit down now.

"Well, I'm sure we'll think of something tomorrow," said Bakura, starting off toward the Slytherin table. "See you, Yugi."

"See you, Bakura," Yugi answered, waving a little. He started toward his own Gryffindor table.

_/Hm, I wonder what really happened to Katie Bell,-/_ came the voice of the pharaoh. _/Bakura certainly __sounded as though he was trying to hide something./_

Yugi shrugged, somehow unable to bring himself to feel that the occurrence would be any more of a misfortune if the spirit had been the cause of it as opposed to some random wizarding villain. It was still the same sad result. Deciding to humor his other self though, he said, _/Maybe the spirit __**was**__ involved. But then again, I have a feeling that Bakura takes everything like this that happens a little too personally._/

_/Perhaps,-/_ the pharaoh answered. _/Perhaps you are right. However, I mentioned it because I keep worrying that the spirit is up to no good, and we won't find out until later that we could have saved ourselves a lot of pain if we'd confronted him now./_

_/I hear you, Other Self,-/ _sighed Yugi. _/I hear you./_

The Apparition Lesson the next day went fairly normal for the sixth years and two first years. For the spirit of the Millennium Ring, this meant not much Apparating, and a lot of frustration.

Though they'd had four to five lessons already, he hadn't managed to Apparate once. For awhile, he'd entertained the idea that Bakura's body was just incapable of Apparating, like it was incapable of so many other things, but he was given new hope when Yugi finally managed to splinch himself during the last practice.

However fortunate this was, as it proved that most likely those whose power came from a Millennium Item were indeed capable of this kind of magic, the spirit still found the pharaoh's host succeeding in doing something before him rather irksome. So, feeling restless, the spirit decided not to let his host regain control right after the practice and, expertly avoiding Yugi who tried to catch his eye, left the grassy slopes and went back inside to wander the immense, maze-like castle.

He strode down the corridors, his eye flickering from one spot along the wall to another, automatically looking for anything that might be a hidden passageway or a switch that led to one. In a way, this castle wasn't so different from the old Egyptian tombs he once raided, and he had an easy time navigating the place and uncovering its secrets. He also took note of every person he happened to pass, most of them sixth years returning to their common rooms from the Apparition lesson.

Full of nervous energy that gave him the irritating feeling of wanting to do anything and everything – yet not _feeling_ like doing any of it, he agitatedly paced up and down the different corridors, suddenly impatient for something to happen – something interesting. It had been awhile since he had played a Shadow Game...

He found himself on the main floor, and he paused next to the staircase that led down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.

The Slytherins were all down there, he thought to himself, not to mention the Slytherin first years who were always getting in his way and interfering with his host's academia. Perhaps...

The spirit's breathing grew slightly heavier, his chest rising and falling in a gathering excitement. It wouldn't matter who it was. Just one, to teach the others their place. Nothing permanent...

Suddenly gritting his teeth, he forced himself to turn around and head back toward the other staircase that led back up to the first floor. Now was not a time to become reckless.

As soon as he reached the top, he promptly went up to the second floor, then the third. When he reached the seventh floor, he finally stopped, panting a little. The corridor he was in now was deserted, save one little girl standing stationary in the center of the hall a little ways away from him, clutching a set of scales used in Potions. But he'd already known that she would be there.

Reaching up, he casually touched the scarf covering his left eye. Then, putting his hands in his pockets, the spirit started down the hall at a slow, casual gait.

The girl watched, looking frightened as the tall figure approached her. What does he want? the spirit heard her wonder. What can I do if he decides to pick a fight?

However, once he reached her, he walked right on passed and, just as the girl was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he stopped. His back to her, so she didn't see him smirk.

"Tell Malfoy we missed him at Apparition, would you?" The spirit's grin broadened as he heard a clatter as the girl dropped her scales, apparently in fright.

_'That's right Malfoy...'_ thought the spirit as he continued on down the corridor. _'Stay in there until you __**finish**__ it.'_

He felt a little better now. At least he had something to look forward to.

He continued on walking and when he reached the end of the corridor, he turned to go down the next one.

Malfoy's little "project" that he was working on in that hidden, magical room along that hallway was the thing that would set everything into motion, and set the stage for the spirit to get to work. He had to wait until Malfoy's project, his _mission_, was complete. Ah, Harry knew that dear Draco was up to no good, but he was so far from guessing the truth. The truth of Malfoy's goal, that would successfully remove the barrier of uncertainty that stood between the spirit and victory, _eliminating_ that one man...

"Mr. Bakura?"

The spirit stopped, pulling his hands out of his pockets. He turned his head just in time to see a stone gargoyle that had apparently leaped to the side to allow someone to pass move back into place. The man who'd addressed him surveyed the spirit through a pair of half-moon spectacles, his expression solemn and almost exhausted.

"Headmaster," the spirit acknowledged, but still did not turn completely around, as though he felt that the greeting of such a superior as the head of the school was not worth the effort.

"Since fortune has lotted us to run into one another again, I will tell you that I've been needing to speak with you." Though he spoke with his usual courtesy, his face was unsmiling.

Out of all the Professors at this school, it was Dumbledore that made the spirit the most nervous. Not _afraid_ per say. Just... nervous. Dumbledore's mind seemed to be the only one that the Millennium Eye couldn't grasp. Oh yes, he could _penetrate_ the man's mind with the Millennium Eye and he'd gotten quite a bit of information out of him too. Even Professor Snape, who specialized in keeping others out of his mind couldn't stop the great power of the Millennium Eye.

No... It was more like Dumbledore's mind was simply too large for him to completely read using the powers of the Millennium Eye. Only fragments of the man's character and personality came across to him and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't gain an understanding of the man's true nature. The man possessed great power in both mind and body, and he was utterly unpredictable to the spirit. Still, it was the few things he had managed to gather from the mind of the Headmaster that made the spirit so certain that Malfoy would succeed.

"Really?" said the spirit, every bit as shy and polite as Ryou would have been. "What about, Headmaster?"

"I'm afraid Professor Snape has been reporting some rather, how shall we say, _disturbing_ occurrences to me. According to him, your actions this year suggest that you are somewhat... unstable."

The spirit considered this carefully. "So I'm crazy?" he asked innocently.

"I think the precise words Professor Snape used were 'Severely moody and imbalanced in both mental state and physical ability.' Hmm, yes, I do believe that may be what he meant to say."

"I see," said the spirit, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"However," the Headmaster began, his voice more serious now, "I want you to understand, Mr. Bakura. I ask that you please do not take the fact that we have allowed you the privilege to come to this school for granted. These are times of war, and if you appear to be a threat to any of the other students, it would be an easy matter to have you expelled."

The spirit didn't reply, so Dumbledore went on.

"Professor Snape also told me that you are unusually gifted for someone just starting his first year," the Headmaster continued. "In regard to these unique talents, I ask that you do not use them against your fellow classmates or use your advantage in size to fight with them, even if it is in self-defense."

Ah, so Snape had told Dumbledore about that little incident after all. It was a wonder that the Headmaster hadn't approached him with this months ago when it had happened, but then, the man was probably too busy with all that was on that prodigious mind of his. Particularly, his "investigations"...

"I'll be careful, Professor," said the spirit and began to walk again. He could feel the thoughts of the Headmaster through the Millennium Eye. The man knew that he was not nearly as innocent as he acted; not in the least. Knowing that the Headmaster was thinking this, it gave the spirit a certain thrill, the way having someone else sensing his own great powers that he took such pride in always did.

The man's character and mind may have been far too intricate to ever comprehend completely, but if there was one fragment that the spirit had managed to obtain, it was the sheer ability of this man to understand the way others thought and find their true motivations. In fact, the spirit was almost certain that the man, should he ever find the will to do so, could even come to an understanding of the spirit himself and it would be the Headmaster with that coveted power of manipulation over _him_...

Malfoy had better hurry up.

...O

The next morning, when Yugi went down to breakfast, he found Bakura pacing incessantly at the bottom of the staircase. Ravenclaws and Gryffindors continued to pass him on their way to the Great Hall, but he didn't seem to notice, his eye focused intently on the ground as he walked.

"Bakura? Bakura, what's wrong?" Yugi asked in confusion as he reached the bottom of the staircase.

Bakura stopped pacing and looked at him. "Oh h-hi, Yugi," he said, apparently straining not to look as upset as he clearly was. "_Uh_, d... did you hear about what happened yet...?"

Even more confused, Yugi asked uncertainly, "Um, what in the world are you talking about, Bakura?"

Bakura began unconsciously wringing his hands and answered in a would-be casual tone, "Oh w-well, you know... Ron, from your house, was..."

"Oh, that's right," said Yugi, finally understanding. "Yeah, he got poisoned or something by accident in Professor Slughorn's office. Everyone was saying it was probably a bad potion or something, but they said he'll recover completely in the next couple of weeks."

"Yeah," said Bakura, but despite this good news, he still continued to wring his hands. "I... I was thinking we could pay him a visit. I mean, since we had Apparition together and he is in your house..."

Remembering Ron's dislike of Slytherins and his negatively speculative comments about Bakura the other day, Yugi rather thought this might not be a good idea.

"Oh, he's not dying or anything," said Yugi, trying to look positive. "I mean, we might be in the same house, but I don't really know him that well, so he might think it was a little strange for me to go visit him."

"Oh... I see..." Bakura sounded completely dejected.

Yugi bit his lip. He hated to disappoint his friend, but it was probably for the best. He really couldn't figure out why Bakura would want to go anyway, not when he knew Ron Weasly even less than Yugi did.

"Come on, let's go get something to eat," said Yugi and pulled lightly on Bakura's sleeve.

Bakura pulled away. "Just a moment, I... I forgot something down in the common room. You go on ahead, Yugi."

"Are you sure?" Yugi asked. He was starting to wonder if it wasn't something else upsetting his friend. It was just unnatural for him to be so worked up about someone who they weren't particularly close to, especially since they knew he was probably going to recover.

"Yeah," said Bakura and started toward the staircase, but hesitated. "Hey Yugi," he said softly, not quite meeting his gaze, "you don't know, by any chance... what time of day Ron's accident happened, do you?"

Yugi raised his eyebrows curiosly. "No..." he said slowly. "No, I don't. I'm sorry. I didn't ask."

Bakura shook his head and it seemed to take a great effort to smile. "No, don't worry about it. Well, I'll see you in a little while."

Yugi watched Bakura go, frowning a little in worry. He would be glad when this whole thing was over and Bakura didn't feel like he had to hide things anymore. But then, maybe it never would be over, maybe this battle with the Millennium Items would never be over. And besides that, maybe Bakura was just someone to whom hiding his feelings came naturally.

...O

As soon as Yugi had entered the Great Hall, Bakura stopped his slow, almost indecisive walk toward the dungeon stairs and turned around, instead heading quickly toward the staircase that led to the next floor up. The hospital wing... he'd never been there before, but he still knew where it was.

As he weaved his way against the crowd that was moving toward the Great Hall, he couldn't stop his heart from pounding heavily in his throat. From the moment he'd heard that someone had been seriously hurt yesterday, he'd been gripped by a silent panic.

_Yesterday. Where had he been yesterday?_

He went up to the second floor then found the staircase that led up to the third.

Ever since the first Apparition lesson, the spirit had begun to always take control during that time without giving Bakura an explanation as to why. However, every time he'd always let Bakura have control again right after the lesson was over. Except for yesterday. What had the spirit done during all that time after Apparition?

He reached the third floor and started down the hallway that led to the hospital wing.

He had to know. He had to find out if Ron was really going to recover, or if he was lying in a bed with white sheets, his body as healthy and functional as anybody sitting down in the Great Hall, obliviously talking and eating breakfast, but his mind unrecoverable, doomed to eternal sleep. Bakura had to see for himself if, by some grace-given chance that, whatever it was, it really had been 'just an accident'...

As he walked with his head bowed, staring at the ground, he glanced up to see how close he was to the room and saw Harry coming his way. Probably back from visiting his best friend, Bakura guessed.

"How... How is he?" Bakura asked.

Harry stopped walking, looking somewhat taken aback at the look of great concern on Bakura's face. "Er... he's doing better now, I guess," he answered hesitantly. "He's awake, at least."

"Really?" said Bakura, his downcast expression replaced with a look of genuine surprise. "He's awake?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry confirmed.

Bakura considered this a moment, thoroughly confused, before he asked in a hopeful tone, "Harry, I wanted to ask... I mean when, when did the accident happen exactly?"

Being the first time that someone had asked him _when_ it happened as opposed to wanting to know every little detail of the event, Harry wasn't sure whether to be relieved or weirded out. He didn't really know that much about Bakura, and he hadn't talked to him that much in a while as he'd given up on him as a possible source to find out what Malfoy was up to a couple months ago.

"Oh, yesterday morning, I guess," he said, not sure what else Bakura could want.

"Before Apparition?" Bakura pressed hesitantly.

Harry nodded.

To Harry's surprise, Bakura face suddenly split into a smile. "Oh well, that's – that's – "

Apparently too happy to describe just exactly what this information was, Bakura just shrugged, still smiling. "Well, I'm sorry about what happened," he said, "I'm glad it's going to be okay. Good luck!" And with that, he continued on down toward the hospital wing, much more jauntily than before.

"Er," said Harry, quirking an eyebrow. He didn't remember ever seeing the nervous first year actually smile before, and he couldn't figure out what he'd said that could make him so happy. "See you, then," he muttered, though Bakura was already halfway down the corridor.

It was funny, but the almost-randomness of Bakura's actions reminded him a bit of Luna Lovegood...

Bakura reached the hospital wing and, after taking a breath to reassure himself, walked on in.

Poking his head into the ward, he saw Ron sitting up in his bed, eating breakfast on a silver tray. Bakura breathed a deep sigh of relief; Ron definitely wasn't in a coma.

Ron must have heard his sigh because at that moment, he glanced up. Seeing Bakura, a look of surprise crossed his face before he frowned.

"Whadduan?" he asked through a mouthful of toast. Then, swallowing, he repeated more clearly, "What do you want?"

Bakura had always wondered how people on television could bring themselves to act cheerful when it was obviously irritating to the other person. Well, he didn't wonder at it anymore.

"Just wanted to see how your doing," he said, smiling brightly.

Ron quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you... Are you okay?" he asked uncertainly, in such a tone to suggest that he was more concerned about being alone in the same room with a crazy person than he was about Bakura's well-being.

"Fine, thank you," said Bakura, still beaming. "Hope you feel better soon – it's Ron, right? Good luck on your recovery!"

With that conclusion to the obscenely short visit, he pulled his head back out of the doorway and left, leaving Ron to just stare in bewilderment.

Ron shook his head. "Not all right in the head, that one..." he muttered.

"_**I could tear you limb from limb right now, but that wouldn't make up for Kul Elna."**_

I like some parts of this chapter, but... as for other parts...

I apologize if you found the last few chapters sort of boring (I keep getting the feeling that they have a sort of drawn-out feel to them; like things that already happened in the story are just repeating themselves XD), but the actually heart of the plotline should be picking back up again around chapter 27.

Thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! It's so motivating to me and even though I know this fic isn't as good as some other ones, I'll keep trying my best. (:

Please remember to r and r. -:D

(earlier vers. last edited 10/13/2008)


	26. Hogsmeade Apparition Lesson

So... I added a scene at the beginning of this chapter. I wasn't sure if it was a little much, but when my beta first read this chapter several years ago, he commented that it felt a little strange for the spirit to be able to handle an Auror so easily when Aurors are supposed to be so well-trained and gifted. So I wanted to get the point across more clearly that it happened like that because the Auror was known for being a bit inept, despite being an Auror.

I was sort of afraid though that it would make these random Aurors seem like more important characters than they are though. (Like they were actual people from the HP series, rather than just three random Aurors who I just made up on the spot...) Oh well, hopefully you're reading this so now you know. (;

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

**-26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26 -26**

disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JKR respectively.

-Note, just in case you've only seen the American dubbed version of Yugioh:

Anzu is Téa.

Jonouchi is Joey.  
Honda is Tristan.

Chapter 26: Hogsmeade Apparition Lesson

The most famous pubs among the wizards of Britain and even among many outside it bustled with activity as usual. The warm, welcoming atmosphere of The Three Broomsticks certainly made it an excellent place to get away from the stresses of daily life.

Three Aurors in particular were sitting at a table off to the side, enjoying three steaming mugs of firewhiskey.

Aurors. Among wizards, they were the elite, the best of the best when it came to casting spells and were experts on the dark magic they fought against. Of course, that didn't mean duds weren't able to sneak in and somehow pass the rigorous testing by a fluke occasionally anyway, or at least that was what two of the three Aurors sitting at the table often said.

"So," said one of the Aurors, "they've asked you to take up that job to watch over all the students practicing for their Apparition Test. Baby-sitting, now that's perfect for you, Johnny. Don't you think so?" She turned to the third Auror in the group, who chuckled appreciatively.

'Johnny' frowned, annoyed. "It's a very important job, looking after our children," he said. "That's why they chose me."

"That's right, just keep trying to convince yourself," she teased. "They're probably trying to get you out of the way, more like. What mayhem's going to happen in the middle of a wizarding village with a dozen Aurors or more standing around on the look-out? Figures they'd give you a job that's impossible to screw up. The higher-ups are getting so they know you too well."

Johnny tried to glare, but had never been very good at being intimidating as the other man chuckled again.

But of course, unfortunately for Johnny, overseeing a Hogsmeade Apparition practice session was more dangerous than it might have seemed.

...O

As it turned out, Ron was still in the hospital wing when the Quidditch match of Gryffindor against Hufflepuff arrived and since he was the Keeper of the Gryffindor team, they team was forced to find a substitute.

In anticipation of the big match, Yugi and Bakura went down to breakfast early to be certain to get at least halfway decent seats. As they were walking down to the stands, Yugi gave Bakura the red scarf Bakura had requested and Bakura put it around his neck.

They quickly found a spot and some of Yugi's Gryffindor roommates soon joined them, though not without giving Bakura slightly weirded-out looks, as though they thought it the most unnatural thing in the world for him to sit with his friend and cheer his team with him. Bakura had a feeling that he was committing his biggest act of betrayal to Slytherin so far, yet he found it quite difficult to work up any guilt on the matter.

Unfortunately, the game turned out to be every bit of a disappointment to Bakura as the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match back in November. The substitute Keeper for Gryffindor failed to save the majority of the goals that came his way; though it seemed to be his lack of attention to his own job and too much attention to everyone else's job rather than a lack of skill. The game was pretty much over when the Keeper borrowed one of the Beaters' bats for some unknown reason and ended up sending a bludger in the wrong direction, knocking the team's Seeker and Captain out of the sky and out of the game. After that, it was just plain torturous to watch, with the match finally ending with the painfully embarrassing score of three-hundred and twenty to sixty.

After the match, when Bakura and Yugi were walking down to the library to work on some homework, Bakura glumly told Yugi that he must jinx whichever team he rooted for and Yugi tried to assure him that that wasn't true. The Slytherin first years, who happened to be passing at that moment, also encouragingly told him that they were sure it wasn't him that had jinxed it – going on to say of course that they didn't think he could jinx much of anything, so don't worry.

Perhaps bolstered by being with Yugi, instead of ignoring them as he usually did, he frowned slightly in their direction. Strangely, they quickly broke eye contact and quickly hurried on passed as though he'd just threatened to seal their souls in dolls (at least, this was the first comparison that came to mind). Sad as it was, Bakura was sorry to admit that for the moment he found this more satisfying than alarming.

...O

The next few weeks went by and as the first Apparition Test in April got closer and closer, it was planned that the students who would be taking the test would get to have some extra lessons if they wanted. They were happy to learn that the lessons would take place in Hogsmeade.

Both Yugi and "Bakura" had already managed to Apparate, but the spirit decided to sign up for the lessons anyway. For one thing, only those who'd be seventeen by April could take the test and go to the extra lessons, which meant Yugi, who wouldn't be seventeen until June, couldn't go, and it would be nice to get away from the shrimp for awhile. Besides, he'd never been to this "Hogsmeade" before; perhaps he would find something there to interest him.

The spirit walked leisurely toward the crowd of sixth years also going to Hogsmeade and noticed Filch, the caretaker of the castle, standing at the front of the crowd. Once again, the man was scanning students with the aerial-shaped secrecy sensor as they left the building and went to the train station that would take them to Hogsmeade. Luckily, it seemed the man was using the same secrecy sensor the spirit had sealed a piece of his soul in at the beginning of the year, he could sense it, so there would be no problem there.

Smirking a little to himself, the spirit went on through.

Hogsmeade had the reputation for being the only all-wizarding village in Britain, so it was only natural that the spirit was a little disappointed when they arrived and saw only little cottage-like houses with thatched roofs lining the street. Somehow, he'd been expecting something a little more impressive.

Despite it being a warm, spring day with clear skies and bright sunshine, the nearly deserted street and many boarded up shops gave the place an almost dreary atmosphere, like there was some thick, invisible fog hanging over everything. However, most of the students were soon able to shake it off, and they began practicing their Apparition.

The spirit practiced for a little while as well, vanishing from a spot in front of a sweetshop then reappearing in front of what might have been a joke shop, though since it was all boarded up, it was hard to tell. Next was a clothier, then a quill shop. At the quill shop, he stopped, peering around the corner down a street that broke off from the main one and saw several of the other students, practicing down by a teashop. He turned his head the other way and saw another closed business on the opposite side of the street. This lesson was already getting tiresome. Perhaps he ought to take a look in one of the closed shops – to him, closed, boarded up shops were so much livelier than those that were open. It would be a nice distraction. However...

The spirit glanced around at the adults in black robes standing at random spots along the streets. Not only were the students being watched by the four Heads of Houses and the Apparition Instructor (whose name, in twelve weeks time, the spirit had still not bothered to learn), but they'd also brought "Aurors" along with various Ministry officials. They'd spared no expense to make sure these lessons were adequately supervised.

But then, when had something like this ever stopped him from doing what he wanted before?

...O

Dervish and Banges, the very last shop on the end of the high street before the village of Hogsmeade ended and the wilderness began, was a business for repairing and selling magical devices of all sorts. It had closed its doors a few months earlier because of the general lack of business in Hogsmeade as of late, the same story as many of the other stores. Since it had been closed rather hastily, magical objects in the middle of being repaired and various objects for sale, all covered with a layer of dust, could still be seen strewn about the dark shop.

On the shelves, cigarette lighters, all shapes of mirrors, and all types of quills were lined up. A long table in the back of the shop, standing apart from the shelves, also had all sorts of objects on it. An old-fashioned tea set with several missing or broken pieces, a watch with planets of an unknown solar system that rotated counter-clockwise about the face, flickering dully in and out of visibility, burnt-out candles, a pair of mangled binoculars, quills writing idly on their own, a small box that seemed to be some sort of radio that was quietly emitting a sort of unintelligible garble, even a couple of broomsticks, one of which had been broken in half, littered the length of the long table.

The spirit briefly surveyed the place before leaping down from his perch in the windowsill, his feet making no noteworthy sound as they made contact with the wooded floor. He slowly straightened from his crouched position, looking over the contents of the shop more carefully now, though with little actual interest. The majority of the items didn't look much different from the things you could buy at any other store.

He picked up a small glass ball off a shelf and looked at the misty white clouds swirling inside of it with the same disinterested boredom.

Still holding it, his eye wandered briefly to the long table at the back of the shop for a moment, before he turned his whole body to face it.

Magically suspended above the table, there was a sign that read: CAUTION: FOR REPAIR. But one item in particular caught his attention, and the spirit cautiously moved closer.

He leaned over the gold cauldron, peering down at the gently smoking, apparently still-active substance inside. The spirit reacted little and only continued to watch it curiously. He mused to himself that perhaps the cauldron had once been enchanted to brew a potion of its own accord, but it had broken down at one point so that it brewed the wrong potion. Or perhaps something had gone wrong with this particular potion, and that was why it was forever stuck at the bottom, unchanging as the day it was first cooked up.

The spirit suddenly jumped back as the cauldron began to spit and spew a light spray of the scalding liquid in all directions. Snarling, the spirit threw an arm in front of his face and backed away, more slowly this time. The pieces of a chess set that happened to be sitting right next to the cauldron attempted to scurry away, squealing in terror. Some of them scolded the spirit as they hid behind the side of the chess board, while some just continued running, knocking off a couple of cups from the old-fashioned tea set which made small tinkles as each one broke against the floor. The bright blue liquid the teapot had been trying to pour into the cups a moment before poured out all over the table and began to drip over onto the floor.

As the spirit put enough distance between him and the cauldron, it stopped spewing the white-hot substance and the liquid magically drained from it, leaving the cauldron to just sit on the end of the long table as though nothing had happened.

The spirit lowered his arm, keeping one loathing eye on the gold cauldron, and he found the sight of the cauldron sparking in him unwanted memories.

Cauldrons were for brewing potions. Using a cauldron, a person could create anything they wanted. Love or hate or power. Even control over life itself was not beyond the power of one who used the cauldron as a vessel of creation.

An image of a cauldron that brewed death rose in his mind... whose ingredients _were_ death.

The spirit was so caught up in his thoughts that his senses were for a moment completely unaware of his environment, an often fatal mistake for a thief as he should have well known. The white mist within the glass ball he was holding, suddenly glowed red and he looked down at it curiously before he heard the creak of a footfall on the wooden floor behind him and the sound of a voice.

"I thought I heard something. You know that students aren't allowed – "

The man was cut off as the spirit suddenly spun around and slammed the palm of his hand up against the man's jaw, covering up his mouth. "Mmffph-" cried the man in shock before the spirit violently shoved the man's head back against the side wall of the end of the nearest shelf.

His teeth bared like a wild animal and breathing harshly, the spirit stared up into the man's eyes and the man stared back, his eyes wide, too stunned apparently to even think to go for his wand.

Slowly, the spirit recovered himself and his expression became calm again. If the spirit had been thinking, he would have put on his usual innocent act and let his host peacefully pay whatever consequences there were, but this man had startled him. It was too late to go back and change things now.

As the spirit's expression of beastly malice softened, so did the man's fear. Mistakenly believing that the danger had passed, the Auror, frowning, attempted to pry the spirit's hand off his mouth. The spirit could hear the man already thinking about reporting him. Everyone always said he didn't know how to do his job properly. Well, he would do it this time. Severe punishment for sneaking into a closed building and then attacking an Auror. Perhaps even expulsion...

"How unfortunate," the spirit whispered softly, tightening his grip on the Auror and making his hand deathly white impossible to pry off. He pulled the man's face close to his own, so that the man could see into the demonic depths of his crimson eye, despite the dark shadows of the shut-up shop. "How your pathetic thoughts betray you."

The Auror's eyes widened as there came a dull glow from underneath the spirit's robes, which grew more intense as seconds passed. The spirit suddenly grinned.

The man let out a cry which was muffled by the spirit's hand and he stared at the spirit with wide, terrified eyes. Then, suddenly, his wide eyes dulled and his tense form slumped in the spirit's grasp. The spirit finally let go of the man's mouth and the Auror fell limply to the floor.

The spirit stared placidly down at a small, faceless wooden doll he held in one hand as it glowed with a white aura. The glow faded as the transfer was complete, and the spirit tossed it casually down next to the man's still body. The spirit certainly didn't need it.

He realized he was glad for this distraction. He glanced at the cauldron, and felt rather better.

"You shouldn't have startled me..." he said softly to the still form. And, with a swirling of robes and a soft whoosh of air, the small dark shop was deserted once more.

...O

The next few months passed without any real incident for Bakura. 'He' did pass his Apparition Test in April, though Bakura wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it. The end of the test meant that the Apparition lessons were officially over, so he didn't have to worry about the spirit taking over anymore, at least during that particular time every Saturday.

However, it became very wearisome very fast when every one of his Professors came to congratulate him on it, and told him how impressed they were that he had passed the advanced subject of Apparition. Yugi must have sensed Bakura's ill-feelings on the matter, because he didn't comment on the test at all.

Katie Bell, the girl who'd been cursed with the necklace in Hogsmeade, returned from the wizarding hospital, which caused Bakura to adopt a sort of feeling that all was finally staring to become right with the world. The Slytherin first years rarely picked on him anymore and even the intense nightmares, though they did not cease entirely, seemed less important than he'd begun to believe they were. They were just dreams to him after all.

One thing that did make him a little nervous however was a rumor that went around the school, especially among the Slytherins. Apparently, Harry Potter (or rather, 'Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain,' as Bakura could not help but think of him), had attacked Draco Malfoy with a dangerous curse and put him in the hospital wing.

Bakura's first instinct was to dismiss it as the usual Slytherin animosity against Gryffindor and probably a little more than a completely inaccurate rumor, but he couldn't deny the truth of it when Yugi confirmed the story, saying that Harry even had detention during the last Quidditch match of the season because of it. Bakura hadn't quite forgotten that, when Harry had talked to him a few months back, he had oddly asked Bakura if he 'happened to know' Draco Malfoy and Bakura felt a chill, wondering if it was coincidence. Most likely, Malfoy had done something to seriously provoke Harry, but still it was frightening. However, Bakura didn't ask Yugi for details and Yugi didn't offer any.

But even this was only a passing shadow in his mind. Even without Harry, the Gryffindor Quidditch team won the match against Ravenclaw so spectacularly that Gryffindor ended up winning the entire Quidditch cup.

And what was more, Bakura was thrilled to find out that on the end-of-year exams there was a written portion in addition to the performing of spells. He didn't have to just accept T's in everything after all.

As the end of the school year quickly approached, he finally began to allow himself to anticipate going back to Domino. What were Anzu, Honda, and Jonouchi doing right now? What would they say when he and Yugi told them about their adventures? He couldn't wait to see their friends again. There wouldn't have to be all these secrets about the spirits and such.

Just a few more weeks, he thought to himself, and all would be as it should once again.

"_**I'm getting excited. Just imagining your bodies writhing in pain sends shivers up my spine."**_

The calm before the storm.

Sorry, this chapter seems a bit short compared to the last two, but that's the way I had it set up. I actually thought this chapter would end up being really long, but I did quite a bit of summarizing... XD

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Please r and r!

(earlier vers. last edited 3/4/2007)

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

It's still pretty long though. X3


	27. The Mark of Tragedy

Heyy people. I've kept up this two-week thing for at least four chapters now. (: I hope you like this chapter; it's pretty long and I worked hard on it even with all the homework I've been getting lately. Enjoy! -:D

**-27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27 -27**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 27: The Mark of Tragedy

"_Bow before the gods, Bakura!"_

_Bakura turned his head listlessly, attempting to find the source of the voice, but found that not much of anything could be distinguished through the dense, black and gray fog that covered the area. His breath came out in soft, white puffs and, as he looked down at his hands, he saw that they were caked with ice crystals._

_Bakura vaguely wondered how it could be cold in the middle of the summer and suddenly remembered that he was four thousand feet above the ground. He turned his head to see the metal bars that surrounded this particular arena – the arena atop a giant Zeppelin._

"_BOW BEFORE THE GODS!" the voice roared again and Bakura slowly turned his head._

_The face of Yugi came sharply into focus and he saw the anger and hatred etched upon it. Hatred aimed at him. For some reason, he felt no surprise but all the same, a feeling of mixed fear and sadness gripped him. Tilting his head back, his gaze fell on the double-mouthed head of a giant red dragon, towering above them._

_A powerful feeling rushed through him and he shouted some furious words at the man standing before him, words that were unintelligible, even to himself. He fell forward, onto the ground, his whole body suddenly stiff and heavy. An untamed fury possessed him and he attempted to raise himself up onto his elbows, to look into his enemy's eyes._

_The giant red dragon, meanwhile, threw it's head back and gathered a blinding sphere of lightning in it's mouth. A beam of pure energy burst forth and Bakura was struck with a sudden indescribable terror._

"_No...!" Bakura snarled furiously, and then, as he suddenly remembered that he didn't hate Yugi – Yugi was his friend – he sobbed out, "Wait, Yugi! Help me!"_

_Bakura continued to cry for help until he realized that Yugi was no longer in his train of vision. He tried to crawl forward so as to see his friend through the thick fog, but Yugi was no longer there._

_Suddenly, Bakura's gaze shot upward as his mind flitted back to the attacking dragon. It was going to kill him – where was Yugi? He saw a dark figure standing in front of him, shielding him as the blast of destructive energy exploded from the god's mouth._

_Bakura stared up at the figure. "Not you..." he mumbled. "Yugi, where are you?" Please, he thought, let anyone protect me but **him**... Because his friendship with Yugi was real, but the protection from this person here was a lie. It had always been a lie._

_The dragon's powerful attack struck the place just behind them and, though the beam had missed, Bakura felt no relief as an acrid stench of burning flesh reached his nostrils._

_The figure standing in front of him was gone, but Bakura didn't seem to notice. He didn't know how or when he'd gotten back to his feet, but he felt his knees weaken as the familiar sight met his eyes._

_Everyone was running, screaming, dying. Charred bodies filled the cauldron in the center of the village square to overflowing as Bakura stood, watching. He didn't know whether the feeling in his chest was one of horror or not. In a way, this all felt distant. There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to these scenes and images that were appearing before him one at a time, changing as fast as they came. He made connections and he received flashes of insight from what he saw that had nothing to do with what he had actually seen, coming to know that which he couldn't possibly know._

"_Please! Please, I beg you... don't kill me... I want to live..."_

"_You filthy little – get off me!"_

_Though they were bleeding and being slaughtered right next to him, their voices gradually grew warped and far away until they meant little to him. He tried to look away from the scene, but he found that he couldn't. His eyes, which were both whole, drifted about the carnage, to all the dying villagers, and he knew a part of him cared – that a part of him was horrified – but that feeling had become iced over with shock._

_He saw the crimson-gold liquid that had been brewing in the cauldron being poured into a giant mold, so large that it cast a shadow over the whole village and blotted out the red light of the setting sun. In that dreadful cast, something was being forged and a dim realization came upon him that if he didn't stop these creations from being formed, these horrendous images would be engraved in his mind and on his heart. He'd never be able to escape, but then again what did it really matter? His soul felt as though it had been drugged against the pain, and the only thing he felt was a slight, dull pounding somewhere in the back of his mind that felt the truth..._

_No, he knew. He did care, he could not help but care. _

_He slowly started toward the cast. Perhaps if he knocked it over, stopped this ritual in progress and stopped even just one more person being sacrificed, it would make a difference. A hundred voices cried out to him, screaming and crying in pain. At first, no distinguishable words came across to him. However, somehow he knew that they weren't crying for him to save them. Rather, they simply wanted him to ease their agony. But he would have rather died saving them. He'd rather save them, because to merely ease their pain, they would trap him here in this place of bloodshed for all eternity._

"_Vengeance," chanted the voices. " Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance..." Over and over and over again._

_He looked down at his hands and saw how small they were. He knew he could not save anyone. All he could do was pledge himself to serve those voices which called to him from that stone cast, pledge to ease their anguish – and willingly imprison himself in this one moment for the rest of time._

Bakura's eye snapped open and he jerked awake, drenched in sweat.

_Revenge._

The single word burned and twisted in his mind, and he felt a shiver creep down his spine. Breathing heavily, frantically for a moment, he pressed a hand to his forehead telling himself, _"A nightmare, just a nightmare."_

He continued to tremble, as he had done after so many other dreams, but this was the first time that it had had nothing to do with the warlike qualities of the images or the carnage that he'd seen. Rather, he felt as though he had never truly known what the word 'revenge' meant before.

The memory of the sights, the smells, the sounds filled his senses as he thought, _'To promise vengeance... is to willing imprison yourself in a world where the wounds of your soul can never heal. Isn't that right, Spirit?'_

Bakura pulled a hand away from his face and slowly sat up. For a moment, he considered getting a book from his trunk to read for awhile to put himself back to sleep, but then realized that the light might disturb one of the other Slytherin first years.

Sighing, he started to lay back down, but then he froze as the shadow of a yell drifted down to his ears, from somewhere far above them. He listened hard for a little while, but so faint had the voice been that Bakura decided he must have imagined it. However, the bodiless sound was shoved completely from his thoughts as a sudden, chilling laugh cut through his mind.

_/So he's finally completed it, I see. Well I must say, it's about time – I was starting to think I'd be waiting around this pathetic excuse for a school of magic for another millennium./_

Bakura's stomach writhed and churned at the sound of this voice, the last one he wanted to hear right here, right now. A note of maniac delight was lurking in an undertone of the spirit's voice and Bakura tensed, feeling sick.

_/What are you waiting for, Host?-/ _said the spirit softly, his voice almost shaking with suppressed, yet intense anticipation and glee._ /Go upstairs, so we can get a front row view of what's happening./_

For a brief moment, Bakura desperately wished that the spirit would just take over and go upstairs himself. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to 'go see' whatever the spirit wanted to see. He wanted to lie there and not have to do anything. He would rather go back to sleep, to be left unaware and never have to find out what terrible thing that gave the spirit such pleasure awaited him upstairs.

_/You want me to take control?-/_ the spirit asked, almost tauntingly. Bakura had never sensed this level of excitement from the spirit before. Bakura was strongly reminded of a shark, who had caught the trace scent of blood in the water; if the shark was let go, it would go shooting after the remains of the poor victim, wherever it was, and rip away its last breath...

Bakura sat up and pulled back the curtains around his bed.

It was then that Bakura heard quiet, murmuring voices in the next bed over and saw that all the Slytherins in the dorm room were fully awake, having some sort of huddle on Olseth's bed. They shot brief glances at the older first year before turning back to each other and resuming their whispered conversation.

Without a word, Bakura got out of bed and slowly pulled his trunk out.

"What are you doing?" demanded Olseth, though there was an edge of fear that took his usual roughness out of it.

"D-Did you hear the voices from upstairs?" one of the Slytherins spoke up timidly. "We heard yelling. Is it a fight? Is the castle under attack?"

Bakura didn't answer, only proceeded to pull his robes out of his trunk.

"Of course he didn't," said Olseth dismissively. "And even if he did, knowing him, he probably thought it was one of his stupid nightmares – Hey! Where are you going?"

The Slytherins watched in confusion as Bakura pulled his robes on over his pajamas and pulled his shoes on. He couldn't possibly be planning on going upstairs, they thought – not when the rest of them were so scared stiff they were going to stay firmly hidden.

"Well?" Olseth pressed, though quieter than before.

Bakura finally looked up at him, a strangely empty, resigned look in his eye. "I'm going to go see what's happening," he said simply. Without anymore explanation, he walked across the room and went through the heavy door of the dorm, before closing it softly behind him.

He went up the cold stone passage and through the common room, which he saw was filling with curious and frightened students, all asking one another the same question. "_What's going on? What's going on?"_

He passed the beautifully adorned fireplace and the green lamps hanging from the ceiling. He ignored the other Slytherins and their curious gazes as he left the warm, lighted room for the dungeon corridor outside.

When he was out of common room, the faint shouts and voices from above could be heard more regularly and a bit more clearly. It sounded like a battle was going on. Bakura swallowed hesitantly and unconsciously slowed his walk.

He had no choice but to go, though. If he didn't, the spirit would take over and that shark would speed off toward unknown victims. Perhaps the spirit would take over anyway when they got there, but he couldn't just tell the spirit to do whatever he wanted. Bakura had to keep fighting, even if it was useless. To give in to the inevitable was easier, but it would be wrong, wouldn't it?

Bakura's walk slowed still more as he thought he imagined the voices getting louder. He so didn't want to go.. Was doing what the spirit ordered really better than just telling him to do it himself?

_/Hurry up, Host./_

Startled, Bakura's leg twitched in a half-step that nearly made him loose his balance, before he sped up to a brisk walk, then jog. He didn't want to reach the spirit's destination – and yet he didn't want to hear the spirit's voice. He felt, in that moment, he had to do whatever it took to keep that voice from speaking to him.

His shoes slapped loudly against the stone, but still could not drown out every muffled cry that would waft to him from the floors above and Bakura shot a fearful glance at the ceiling more than once, but despite this, he only sped up even more, as though drawn in by a irresistible magnetic force.

Bakura began to pant as he reached the bottom of the staircase that led up to the Great Hall. Dashing up the stairs, little droplets of sweat began to run down into his eye and his side started to hurt. He started down the dark hall, the only light being that of the moon that shone dimly in through the windows, and then he headed toward the next staircase up.

He suddenly felt a rush of cool air as something blew past him, apparently oblivious of his presence. As he looked, Bakura saw that that 'something' was several dark figures dressed in long black cloaks. One of them turned his head to yell something at the others, and in that moment Bakura saw that the man was wearing a bone-white mask. He shuddered.

Without thinking, Bakura retreated back a step or two, still breathing hard. He realized that they must be running from the battle and shivered again as he wondered if the heart of the battle was moving this way, from where it had evidently been taking place upstairs.

The figures continued to run down the hall toward the great doors of the entrance to the castle which Bakura saw had been blown open with some spell.

Bakura hesitated, unsure what to do. Did the spirit want him to follow these figures or did he want Bakura to go up in the direction they'd come from?

_/Go outside,-/_ came the spirit's voice and Bakura flinched. _/Too bad, the fights seems to be pretty much over already. But I suppose it's just as well./_

A small wave of relief washed over Bakura at these words; however, the spirit did not sound as disappointed as Bakura would have thought he'd be. Apprehension replaced relief as it occurred to him that there was still something else that the spirit wanted to see. Bakura slowly followed the path the cloaked figures had just taken uncertainly, his emotions continuing to wrestle with one another.

Outside, the cold air chilled him, sending goosebumps up his arms. He half-staggered down the steps until his foot landed on something dark and sticky. Bakura stared numbly down at it for a moment before letting out a small cry and hastily yanking his foot up in horror. He took several steps until he reached the grass that grew around the castle and frantically wiped his shoe, panic blocking out all other thought for a moment. He didn't stop until he remembered the present state of events and he looked up, surveying the dark night scene around him.

He could hear some faint shouting and he saw the cloaked figures from before reach the edge of the grounds before disappearing from sight, though Bakura didn't see where they went. His attention was drawn to the sight of a huge fire burning brightly at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and realized by where it was set that it must be Hagrid's hut. It wasn't so far from where they had always had their Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

Bakura stood, transfixed as he watched the bright orange flames rise higher. He didn't move, even when they began to drop back down again and he dimly noticed two figures standing in front of the hut, putting it out with something. They were too far away to see clearly against the light of the fire, but Bakura guessed that it meant that the battle really had passed and they were just starting the clean up.

He turned his head to look elsewhere and for the first time, he noticed that other students had begun to wander outside the castle. They looked frightened and confused, most of them still in their pajamas as they whispered amongst one another. They filed past Bakura, converging in a crowd along the side of the castle, not too far from the entrance.

Some must have mistaken Bakura's blank, listless expression as one that was calm and in-control, because they asked him if he knew what was going on.

"_Did you see what happened?"_ asked one.

"_We heard something about the Dark Mark – was someone killed?"_

Their voices seemed muddled and far away. He didn't know what most of them were talking about, which only seemed to compound the sense of other-worldliness, as though he did not actually exist in this place and was merely a spectator of it all. He shook his head and turned away from them. _'Killed...'_ That was the only word that seemed to get across.

Bakura heard it, and a part of him realized he ought to be affected, but it did not seem to register. It did not feel as if it was something that really mattered right now – like something he'd been expecting for a long time. As though, deep down, he thought they all ought to be grateful nothing more horrible had happened. Even so, Bakura's breath began to come even quicker now as he walked slowly in the direction of the small crowd of students that was slowly growing larger. His stomach tightened and churned in nervousness – a vague nervousness that knew it was not that he felt no fear or pain, but that it was temporarily numbed, ready to come back up at any second and swallow him. A vague fear in the back of his mind that, without his realizing it, was already consuming his apparent, blessed indifference, bit by bit.

"Hey – Bakura?"

Bakura turned his head to see a group of his fellow Slytherin first years staring up at him. For once, they were not taunting him, or looking annoyed with him. They were shivering with fright, just like all the other students out here.

"Did you – Did you find out what was going on?" asked one. They had never spoken to him this way – like he was one of them, like they looked up to him, not that he could muster the slightest bit of joy over it.

Bakura shook his head, still unable to speak.

"What're they all – What is everybody doing over there?" asked Olseth, sounding as though he was trying to sound demanding, but his voice coming out rather hoarse. He gestured vaguely toward the crowd.

The crowd was assembling around a spot just below the Astronomy tower far above and as Bakura shrugged, all the first year Slytherins started toward it. As Bakura got closer, he saw that the people in the crowd were white-faced and crying. Some sobbed loudly, while others' shoulders only shook a little, but every one of them was experiencing the same emotion.

Bakura moved through the loose-packed crowd like a zombie, completely unsure of what sort of image awaited him and unable to stop himself.

When he reached the front of the crowd, he stopped. His whole body froze, his muscles tensing, wanting to convulse, yet somehow remaining still, as he stared helplessly at the sight. There, lying broken on the dark, cold grass, was a body. By the strange angle of the arms and legs, it seemed the man must have fallen from the Astronomy tower above. Bakura saw Harry, Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, kneeling at the man's side, tenderly wiping a trickle of blood from the victim's mouth and straightening the man's half-moon spectacles. Hagrid was sobbing nearby.

Bakura felt all indifference and the blanket of fog that had been covering his compassion drain from him and his mouth opened, trembling in silent horror. His stomach writhed and he suddenly felt as though he might throw up. He knew the man – the man who he had seen so rarely, but nonetheless caught a glimpse of every once in a while during meals. This was a man who Bakura had heard of more than he had actually known – someone who'd done all sorts of great things and did more for Hogwarts than any headmaster before him.

There is always something horrible about knowing that someone is dead, that someone who lived and breathed and loved would, as of now, never do any of those things again. But even in the midst of this human emotion called sympathy, when one doesn't know the dead one's name, it's easy to recover. Perhaps this is because by nature human beings only really care about the lives of those who immediately affect their own. But then, Bakura didn't have to worry about forgetting to remember this person once alive had a name – because it was a name he knew. Professor Albus Dumbledore.

_/So he did it after all... Interesting./_

Bakura's pupils shrank and he turned his head sharply to stare at the phantom standing next to him. Bakura's complete incomprehension of this display of utter apathy showed on his soft face before, after a moment, he turned once again to look at the headmaster's broken, bloody body. Perhaps if Bakura did not look at the spirit, if he pretended the spirit did not exist, then he could somehow will away this awful being that shared both his body and mind.

_'No, please,'_ Bakura pleaded silently, though with who, he didn't know. _'Not now. I can't deal with him right now.'_

_/He must have fallen from that tower up there,-/_ the spirit commented in the same tone one would use in talking about the weather, and tilted his head back casually to look up at the tower.

Bakura automatically followed the spirit's gaze and flinched as he saw a bright green image in the shape of a skull with a snake coming out its mouth hovering above it. He covered his mouth at this image of the occult, not knowing what it was, and yet unable to miss the ominous aura it emanated.

_/It's beautiful, isn't it?-/_ the spirit said, almost gently. _/It's called the 'Dark Mark' – it is the mark of those people in black cloaks that you saw before. They leave that mark above the body whenever they kill someone./_

Bakura gritted his teeth and, unable to take anymore, spun around and dashed his way back through the crowd, dodging around people as he went. He ran away from the body, from the crowd, but mostly from the voice. That horrible, unfeeling voice.

_/I'd be willing to wager you are acquainted with the person who did it,-/_ the spirit continued, his dispassionate voice following Bakura as he went._ /Do you want to know who it was that did it? He's been planning on it for some time actually... I've been waiting for this for simply __**ages**__./ _

Bakura breathed harder, concentrating on making it as loud as possible, still hoping to block out the voice. "Stop it," he breathed, inaudible to anyone but himself. "_Stop _it– !"

_/I didn't imagine he'd do it quite like that, though. I suppose even I can't predict everything. What fun, wouldn't you agree?-/ _

Bakura ran faster, out into the dead of night, pressing his hands over his ears. "You – you're a monster – a _murderer_ – " Possessed by an indescribably powerful feeling, a mixture of horror and revulsion, he staggered forward. The spirit was doing this on purpose – he was enjoying this. Bakura had always kept it in his mind, the knowledge of what a horrible being the spirit was, and yet, without his knowing it, his mistrust and dislike felt as though it had ebbed these past few months. He had forgotten what the spirit was and his presence had grown to be nothing more than a nuisance, a bit of a problem from time to time in Bakura's perception. But the spirit was a being who destroyed lives. It was completely wrong of him to forget that.

_/Calm yourself, Host,-/_ said the spirit idly. _/There are too many monsters and murderers in the world to be getting so worked up about each and every one of them, don't you think? I had no hand in this man's death. It would have happened regardless of whether we came to this school or not. As a killer, I'm merely showing my excitement at someone else's handiwork. And also, no matter what you think, I didn't kill the people in your dreams either, Host. What do you say to that?-/_ The spirit said all this with a casual tone, as though they were having a pleasant, everyday conversation over tea.

Bakura felt his quick flare of anger fade, though he didn't know why. Perhaps it was because he was one of those people who found himself unable to stay angry for very long. Or perhaps it was because he knew that this was something to be sad about, not angry. Bakura fell to his knees in the cold grass and wrapped his arms around himself. Why was all this happening? Was it a nightmare? He'd been so close to going back to Domino...

His head down, Bakura did not see the spirit towering over him, a sneer etched into his face. _/My host truly is a weakling,-/ _the spirit commented, snide disdain in his tone, as always.

Bakura knelt in that position for a long while in silence before he finally turned his head enough to look at where he expected the spirit's transparent feet to be, but the spirit was gone. He must have retreated back into the ring.

For some reason, Bakura felt no relief. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and turned his head to look back at the crowd a ways behind him, still standing around the Astronomy tower. The image of the broken body and the white faces of the horror-struck students came back to him and he turned away again.

It was funny, wasn't it? He'd barely knew the headmaster, only ever seeing him at the occasional mealtime, and even then, always at a distance. Yet, Bakura the death of a single person was able to cause so much pain. The pain of those who'd known the headmaster for all the years they'd been going to school, now spreading to him like a virus... He could not shut those feelings out, even if he wanted to, as though it was he wielding the power of the Millennium Eye.

"Bakura... is that you?"

Bakura turned his head and saw Yugi, shivering in his light-blue, star-spotted pajamas. His wide eyes were filled with tears and his white face shone in the moonlight.

Bakura had never felt so glad to see his friend as he did in that moment. As though a ray of light he hadn't known existed had pierced the dark shadows, if just briefly and shone down on him, his face broke into smile. A sad, exhausted smile, but a smile. "Yugi, I'm so glad to see you," Bakura whispered.

Yugi's lip trembled and more tears spilled over his face. "Oh, Bakura..."

They simply stood there for a moment in silence, both sickened by what they had seen, yet strengthened a little by each others' company.

Bakura saw Professor Sprout coming out of the castle at a distance and the two of them walked slowly back toward where the crowd was. The Professor began herding the students back into the castle, her voice unusually soft as she called them all to go back to bed.

Yugi and Bakura followed the crowd out of the cold of night and back into the castle, their faces as pale as death, though the light of the candles that lined the entrance hall cheered Bakura a little. He rubbed his arms, anxious to get back to the common room so he could sleep. Perhaps he would wake up tomorrow and find this was all just another nightmare.

He concentrated on the rhythmic thumping sound his feet made on the stone floor as he tried not to think of anything else. Glancing up at Yugi, he remembered that they were in different Houses and wished that they didn't have to separate. He would be alone once he got to his dorm room.

But as they passed the doors of the Great Hall, the two of them had no choice but to split up in order to go to their respective common rooms. Before they parted, Yugi touched Bakura's sleeve, as though saying he did not want to separate either and looked up at Bakura with his tear-stained face.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay Bakura?" he whispered.

Bakura nodded, though he did it distantly, like it was someone else answering. "Yeah."

A little while later, Bakura reached the concealed entrance to the Slytherin common room, along with a small crowd of other Slytherins. None of them said anything, all of their faces downcast.

When he reached the first year dormitory, he threw himself down on the bed and laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

_And also, no matter what you think, I didn't kill the people in your dreams either, Host._

Bakura's eye shut tighter, almost as if he were trying to force sleep to come. He rolled over in an attempt to get in a more comfortable position, then tossed over onto his other side, desperately trying to use the metallic sound of bedsprings to keep the room from going completely silent as he tried to block his thoughts out. The pale faces, the sobs, the blood that stained the entrance to the castle...

It wasn't long before the Slytherin first years came into the dormitory, whispering amongst themselves in frightened undertones.

Bakura turned over onto his side as they all went to sit on Olseth's bed again to continue talking and he never wished more than now that he was a part of their group of friends.

He closed his eye, listening to their voices. The human presence comforted him and he was glad for any break in the silence.

The restlessness in his system slowly faded and he began to feel dreary as sleep slowly began to wrap around him.

Even after the Slytherins stopped talking and went back to their own beds to at least try to get some sleep, he continued to try to force himself to relax as he anticipated daybreak the next day, when he would go down to breakfast and see the familiar faces of his classmates and friend in the light of the giant Great Hall. To see all his teachers, each showing signs of the same suffering everyone was experiencing, but being strong in the face of it all the same. Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn, Professor Snape...

Even if there would be nothing but torment tonight, tomorrow there would be hope waiting for him in a bright room filled with familiar faces. Familiar faces...

"_**You can hear them, can't you...? The death screams of Kul Elna, the village of thieves..."**_

So it finally happened. Poor Dumbledore. D: Thank you everyone who reviewed last chapter!

Please r and r. (:

(earlier vers. last edited 9/9/2007)


	28. End of the Beginning

Okay, here's chapter 28. (: I guess you could say that this is the 'aftermath' of chapter 27...

**-28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28 -28**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 28: End of the Beginning

Bakura stared up at the high dungeon ceiling above him.

He didn't want to get up... but today was the day. He had to go.

Bakura rolled over and put his feet on the floor. As he pulled back the curtains, he saw that the other Slytherins were getting up as well. No one spoke, all avoiding one another's eye.

They all changed into black, formal robes and Bakura, who was ready before the others, went through the small passageway that led to the common room on ahead. As he went through the common room, his eye lingered on the elaborately adorned fireplace on one side of the room, before he wrenched his gaze away and went on to the dungeon corridors.

Dumbledore's funeral. Today was the day... then everyone would be sent home from the school, many likely never to return.

Bakura wasn't sure what to feel. Once they were sent home, what would happen? Would things just go back to normal back in Domino? He wanted to think that he and Yugi wouldn't really be so changed by this. As painful as it was painful now, life would move on. Yugi and the Pharaoh would find a way to defeat the spirit and things would all be fine.

Yet if Bakura's considerable experience of how his personal world actually worked had taught him anything, it was that there was no way it could ever really be that simple.

...O

For the past few days, Bakura had been in a lethargic state, lying in bed all day long as he turned these hopes and doubts over and over in his mind. He occasionally went down to meals, for he found he didn't have the energy or the motive to do anything else. Ever since he'd found out what Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy had done, he wondered to himself if, had he reported the strange behavior he had seen Malfoy show to someone, it would have made a difference. The spirit's words, _"He's been planning on it for some time"_ sent chills down Bakura's spine.

But at the same time, the spirit's comment that had seemed at the time, strange, almost out of place, in a voice that held a touch of irony, _"And no matter what you think, I didn't kill the people in your dreams either, Host"_ gave Bakura a feeling of discomfort. He kept thinking of the boy in his dream and prayed that what he was beginning to think was not true. So long as it wasn't true, the lines of good and evil, enemy and friend, could still be drawn with ease. There would be no doubt of who they had to defeat, or who it was that ultimately deserved Bakura's mistrust and even hostility.

Bakura walked up the staircase to the main floor and headed slowly for the Great Hall's doors, keeping his eye on the floor. As he entered the room, he forced himself to lift his head and glanced over the area, naturally searching for Yugi. He found Yugi already sitting at the Gryffindor table, too busy staring down at his untouched food in a gloomy languid state to have noticed Bakura's entry.

Sighing, Bakura headed slowly toward the Slytherin table, his gaze automatically sliding up to the staff table, as it had done every day since that night a few days ago to see the large throne-like chair exactly centered relative to the other teacher's chairs. This chair had been empty many times before when the Headmaster would leave for unknown reasons, but it had never been as lonely and empty as it was now.

Next his eye slid to the place Professor Snape had used to sit and was a little startled to see that, unlike the last few days, there was someone sitting there.

It wasn't Snape – Bakura didn't recognize the person – but he felt his lips move down into a small frown as he let his gaze drop to the floor. Turning on his heel, Bakura walked over to the Gryffindor table and seated himself next to Yugi. Would anybody really care if he sat at this table, just this once? Snape might have cared in all his unfair ways and dislike towards Gryffindor, but he was gone now. Gone... and a traitor to all of Hogwarts.

"Hello, Bakura." Yugi smiled bleakly up at him. The boy didn't ask why Bakura had decided to sit with him today.

"Hello, Yugi," replied Bakura.

They sat in silence, a silence that blended in nicely with the quietly tense atmosphere that had settled over the Great Hall.

No one seemed to be all that hungry and it wasn't long before Professor McGonagall got to her feet and, as Headmistress, gave the word that they would all be going outside now, to where the funeral was going to be held.

When Bakura heard her tell the students to follow their Heads of Houses, Bakura gave Yugi a mournful sort of wave before weaving back toward the Slytherin table, going around the back of the hall to keep himself a little inconspicuous. But his efforts lacked their usually careful zeal as he found he didn't care all that much about being out of place or noticed. Not today.

They walked out into the summer sun which shone bright and warm upon the crowns of their bowed heads. Bakura felt the warmth on his cold hands and unconsciously rubbed them.

The funeral service went on for what seemed like an indefinite period of time and every time his mind wandered even the smallest bit from the man who was speaking up front, he forced himself to concentrate even harder. It was selfish to be distracted at a time like this, he told himself. After all, a person who had put so much of his life into helping people had died at this school; the least Bakura could do was listen to an hour talk about this man's life.

But truthfully, Bakura didn't like to think about Dumbledore. He had not known Dumbledore as the great Headmaster everyone else had; he had barely even seen the man, barely even heard him speak. All he could hear was the spirit's cruel laughter as the man's body lie broken at the base of the castle. Seeing Dumbledore or thinking about him made his insides churn with guilt, as though it had been the spirit who had murdered him. To murder, to laugh at murder – what was the difference?

He tried to tell himself how he ought to feel. For the sake of a man who had touched so many lives, Bakura knew he out to burn with righteous anger at the spirit for his blasé attitude. The spirit had killed people before this, and so he ought to have earned the despise of everyone.

And Bakura was indeed disturbed, even horrified by what had occurred, despite not knowing the Head Master well at all himself. Yet he was consumed with the sense that his feeling on this matter should be stronger than that. After everything, he ought to hate the spirit, hadn't he? Ought to feel a fire rise up in his chest at the very thought of that being. However, whenever the word 'hate' crossed his thoughts, his mind would unconsciously go back to that scene in his dream, of the little boy watching his neighbors die. For Bakura, no matter what he tried to think or believe, it was an endless cycle of guilt, of hating the spirit, or not hating him.

The only conclusion he could come to in the end was that it was better not to think about any of it.

The speaker eventually finished the woeful speech and as the man returned to his seat, Bakura lifted his head and watched with a dull eye. He was waiting for the next person to go up to make yet another speech, probably by someone like Bakura, who had probably not known enough to fully appreciate the greatness of the man.

However, he was snapped out of his stupor as the table Dumbledore's motionless form had being lying on a moment before abruptly burst into flame. There were shouts and a few screams as people looked on in alarm.

Bakura watched the fire in awe, neither frightened nor upset, at least in those first few moments, when his mind was blissfully blank in surprise. For a brief moment, he irrationally thought that the flame meant Dumbledore was still alive. This show of magic was just like a powerful wizard, right?

But the spark of hope that flickered once in the depths of his mind was soon extinguished by a wave of emotion that was not his. He felt a pulse of anger and – fear? It was an out of place feeling, like a sudden interruption in the flow of his thoughts. But it was gone the moment it came, as was his thought that the flames were Dumbledore and he watched as the flames disappeared and left nothing but a marble white tomb in its place.

There was a moment of respectful silence before people started getting up and moving around. It was understood that that funeral was now over.

Bakura glanced back in the direction where most of the Gryffindors were sitting together and spotted Yugi, still in his seat and staring at the tomb.

Bakura slowly got to his feet and, instead of heading to where Yugi was, walked slowly over toward the lake. He gazed out over the waters, rippling gently and glistening in the bright sunshine. Despite the warmth and light of the beautiful summer day, Bakura felt cold. It didn't matter how much he thought or meditated; there was always something he was missing, something that confused him. He wanted more than anything to hold true to his beliefs and values, but they were submerged in murky water and every time he reached out to grab them to see and remind himself what they were, they slipped away from him.

"Bakura?"

Bakura turned to see Yugi standing next to him, a tired sort of smile on his face.

"Yugi," replied Bakura softly, and could not stop his own small, weary smile. When Yugi was there, for some reason the burden of all these things did seem a bit lighter though, less important. Perhaps that feeling would be enough to help him to just keep trying his best to do what was right, even if he didn't fully understand everything.

"I was just talking to Ron and Hermione," said Yugi, still in a soft voice. "Ron's brother's getting married this summer and they invited me to come. They said you could come too."

Bakura looked down at Yugi, a smile still on his lips. He answered in the same soft voice as Yugi, "Really?"

Yugi's smile broadened and he looked a little less tired. Cheering him up and being cheered, perhaps it could ebb away the loneliness Bakura felt when he looked up at the Headmaster's tomb.

...O

Yugi laughed a little and said in response to Bakura's gently hopeful expression, "Let's go back to Domino. Then this summer, together we can – "

He cut himself off. It took only a second for his smile to vanish and his insides to knot as he saw, with his own eyes, the way Bakura's eye suddenly narrowed and the warm brown cornea shrunk and tinted with a blood red color. His pale face split into a smirk that disfigured his soft, normally innocent features.

Eyes wide, Yugi started to take a frightened step back, but then he stopped, straightening. He stared coldly, defiantly back at the spirit of the Millennium Ring.

"So I take it this means you won't be coming to the wedding," said the pharaoh, not a trace of warmth or curiosity in his voice.

"Very perceptive," answered the spirit, not breaking eye contact.

There was a silence before the pharaoh commented, "This is the most careless you've been around me so far – our first real talk since Battle City, I would say."

"Careless," said the spirit, his lips still upturned in that amused sort of way that thoroughly irritated the pharaoh. "What ever do you mean by that? I don't think I've made an announcement that there was any particular reason I didn't want to talk to you."

The Pharaoh decided to take a chance. "I know you forbade Bakura in some form from talking to us about you," he said quickly. "Why do that if you aren't avoiding me for some reason? Though, truthfully, you've done a pretty pitiable job of hiding yourself so far no matter what Bakura might have said."

The spirit grinned broadly for a moment, his pupil shrinking in an insanely excited sort of way before his expression softened back to normal and the regular smirk was back. "Oh, that," said the spirit loftily and putting on an air that seemed remarkably at ease for someone talking to his rival of three-thousand years. "Well, I must admit that it's admirable you figured out about my forbidding Bakura to mention me," he said, and the Pharaoh gritted his teeth as he felt the spirit's patronization dripping off every word, "but I think you may have missed the reason _why_ I did what I did."

The Pharaoh was a little caught off-guard by this and couldn't stop the confusion from creeping into his voice as he asked sharply, "What do you mean?" His head moved unconsciously closer to the spirit's, his curiosity treacherous.

"Well, to put it bluntly," the spirit began, clear enjoyment in every line of his pale face as he leaned forward, lowering his voice as though about to divulge some great secret, "_it was fun watching him squirm_."

The pharaoh pulled his head back sharply, and glared furiously at the spirit. "You," he said with growling venom, "_sicken me_."

The spirit tilted his head back and surveyed the Pharaoh with his single eye. His mouth opened and he looked as though he were about to laugh, but then it faded and his expression became calm, tranquil. He watched the pharaoh for a moment, thoughtful, and the pharaoh thought he saw a dark, almost angry flicker in the depths of that cold eye. "I assure you, the feeling is mutual," he said lightly, but his eye told a different story.

The spirit turned his head to gaze out at the glimmering lake and the Pharaoh followed his gaze without really thinking about it. The pharaoh remained tense; he didn't know what it was, but something had changed. The playful, twisted pleasantness was gone and the spirit was now just as serious as he was.

"A man... who cannot remember his own past should not be so quick to pass judgment," the spirit said after a long moment, his voice getting progressively softer, but the pharaoh still catching every word. "Or is he willing to risk finding out he's a hypocrite?"

The pharaoh felt a flash of anger. "Don't try to get inside my head. Your usual mind-games won't work on me."

"Mind games, you say?" the spirit repeated, so quietly that it was almost more to himself than the pharaoh. "Mind games, huh... You've always been so defensive for someone who supposedly knows exactly what he believes – for someone who's supposed to be a representation of justice. If you're so sure you're right, then why are you always acting as though you're afraid someone might contradict you?"

"I'm not defensive," said the pharaoh, not backing down. "I'm telling the truth. Someone has to, so that those who do wrong can have an opportunity to change, to find a better life before their misdeeds destroy them and countless others. If you think that you can convince _me _of _your_ ways, you're sadly mistaken. Since we already know what a liar and manipulator you are, all of your usual weaving and twisting is useless."

The spirit chuckled humorlessly, looking up at the sky and watching the white clouds roll lazily by overhead. His voice was still unusually quiet, almost pensive. "No, I doubt I could dismantle your beliefs anymore than your preaching about love and friendship would dismantle mine." He paused. "Interestingly, you and I are really not so different. Each thinks only his way of viewing the world is the only truth. This battle between the two of us will be decided by our wills in the end – the one whose arrogance to presume the world is only as he sees it is greater. The one with the strongest will, the strongest heart, as in all the Shadow Games."

The pharaoh did not make any reaction, though inwardly he silently disagreed. Certainly, the one with the strongest heart would win. But he did not think that will would necessarily come from arrogance.

The pharaoh continued to watch the spirit with suspicious eyes as he tried to figure out where this was going.

"However," said the spirit softly, his eye flickering back down to the pharaoh, "that definitely won't be you."

The pharaoh gave the spirit a hard look, but again did not open his mouth to argue.

The spirit's eye went back up the blue sky and he continued, "It can't be you, because your will is torn. Despite what people think, justice is not something that is clearly defined. It is something that changes with the person. Every individual has a different view of it... but yours is that of a hypocrite. Your 'justice' is to protect the weak from harm and to not use the tactics of 'evil' to win. But when it comes down to it, you people do what you have to to claim victory in the end."

The pharaoh didn't answer, watching the spirit intently but his mouth felt dry. He couldn't speak somehow.

"My justice is to kill those who get in my way, or threaten me. There is no hypocrisy in that. While you flounder and struggle between that thin line you call 'right and wrong,' I will forge ahead, getting more powerful all the time, without being hindered or confused by such trivial details. And you... you will be lost."

When the spirit had finished speaking, the pharaoh stared at him resolutely and when the spirit's eye finally came back to rest upon his face, the pharaoh said, "No, I have already tested the boundaries of good and evil." He closed his eyes as that memory of he and Kaiba standing up on that castle so far away on Pegasus's island and Kaiba's threat that he would gladly die if Yugi attacked. He'd rather die than lose, that was the strength of his resolve. The pharaoh knew why he'd been wrong back then to go through with the attack.

The pharaoh's own confident smirk spread across his face as he said, "I do know where the boundaries are."

"You think so, do you?" said the spirit softly. "We'll see... We'll see." He had a softly pensive look on his face as he stared out over the lake. The pharaoh flinched as the spirit suddenly grinned wildly, apparently back to his old self when he turned to look back at the pharaoh once again.

"Despite all your bragging about having figured out I was here, you really don't know much of anything about the time I spent at this place, do you?"

The pharaoh snapped out of the quiet reverie of philosophies the spirit had led them into and glared at him. He was even more obnoxious when he was right.

"I'm much more powerful than before," said the spirit and he paused, as though waiting for the pharaoh to ask him about it. When he didn't, the spirit continued on, "You're probably thinking that you've learned everything I have, so it's nothing to be impressed over." He smirked as the pharaoh's eyes narrowed. "And you are correct – at least about what we learned here at this school." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and casually examined it, turning it over in his long, thin fingers.

The pharaoh watched, tense as he waited for what the spirit would do next. The spirit was unpredictable.

"Magic tricks," sneered the spirit, pocketing the wand again and looking back at the pharaoh. "While useful, that is all they are."

The pharaoh frowned questioningly.

"The darker side of this world extended its hand to me," said the spirit simply. "And because of it, I'm stronger than ever."

"What does that mean?" the pharaoh asked. "How?"

The spirit shrugged, smirking softly. "Guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? I've been pretty generous to tell you this much, so I'll leave the rest up to you. Or perhaps, just as you're on the verge of death – " The pharaoh could not help the chill that shot down his spine – "I might decide to tell you a little more."

For the first time, the pharaoh's eyes dropped away from the spirit's and he glanced around at the students still meandering around after the funeral, some already leaving as they got ready to board the train that would take them home.

"What is your plan for this world of wizards exactly?" the pharaoh asked, looking back up. "You want to be the king over this place too? You want even more power to be either adored or feared by everyone?"

The spirit turned away from the pharaoh to look up at the sky overhead and the pharaoh hesitantly followed his gaze. Instead of answering, he asked, "Do you see it, Pharaoh? That soft, clear blue... Does it make you happy seeing it? Does the warmth and natural beauty give you a pleasant feeling of peace?" His lips curled. "Because I'm going to make it mine, and I'm going to make it a different color... that's my plan for this world. My plan for _this_ world is the same as my plan for yours; to me, the wizarding world and the so-called 'muggle' world are the same despite what the arrogant wizards think. I will turn your blue sky to black and I will turn this lake shining with life to crimson. What will you do then?"

The pharaoh continued to stare a the beautiful azure sky and then his eyes dropped to the clear, glittering lake.

"That's your prediction," he said finally. "But a mere prediction is nothing. Because I'm here to stop all of it. As long as I'm here..." But as the pharaoh turned to look at the spirit, he saw that the tomb robber was gone.

The warm breeze of the balmy day blew from the lake, tussling the pharaoh's hair as a feeling of unease settled over him. He stared at the place where the spirit had been standing a moment before, then clenched his fist at his side and his look of quiet shock melded into one of determination.

"Yes, no matter what, I swear I won't let your justice become a reality, Spirit of the Millennium Ring. Your twisted dream for the future will fail... That is my prediction."

And so he turned on his head in the thick emerald green grass and set off back to the castle.

...O

Meanwhile, far underground the spirit sped along, grasped securely in Diabound's clutches. He'd make one last stop at Hogwarts for a quick change of clothes before he went on with the rest of his plans.

The spirit would kill the pharaoh eventually as his revenge for all that pain he'd endured those many years ago, but for now, he needed to concentrate on making sure this wizarding world didn't get in his way. Their magic had proved, of course, a great deal weaker than his own, but those who had near mastery over their magic could be problematic. Fortunately, Dumbledore's death had already been arranged for him. There was one other dangerous wizard on the spirit's list however that wasn't in any position to conveniently get himself killed just yet, though.

It would take some calculated interference on the spirit's part to get _him_ out of the way. Then at last he would be free to fulfill his true ambition, to utterly destroy his most hated enemy.

"_**And soon this city, too, will drown in blood and you will be the one to spill it."**_

So far, this fic has followed basically the same timeline of events that book 6 did; however, with this chapter, the parallel with book six officially ends. In my mind, this fic has two parts, the part that is like book 6, and the part that comes afterward and is like book 7 (at least, my imaginary version of book 7 XD). For better or for worse, the second part is less angst and more action than the first 28 chapters, and Harry & company finally get to play a larger role.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed for your support and input!

Niki, to your question about Bakura getting back to Domino... no, he doesn't. XD (why am I so mean to him?-) Well, to be more accurate, Ryou personally isn't going to have a reunion with the gang during the course of the fic, at least from what I have planned (when it comes to outlines and notes, things have been known to drastically change by the final draft...). That isn't to say Domino won't play _any_ role at all, though.

Please r and r! (:

(earlier vers. last edited 3/31/2007)


	29. The Wedding

For those who asked, no, I'm not going to wait until book seven comes out to write the second part of this fic. Sorry if there was any confusion. I already have the rest of this fanfiction planned out pretty extensively and I want to finish this entire fanfiction, including the book 7-ish part, before book seven comes out. That's partially because I don't want all the research I did to go to waste. XD So again, I'm sorry if I wasn't clear, but I'm definitely not going to be waiting for book seven to come out to update. (:

**-29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29 -29**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 29: The Wedding

The bright afternoon sunlight shone down on the grassy hillside in front of a tall house. It couldn't be said that this house resembled any ordinary house with its many levels stacked precariously on top of one another as they were. It could only be assumed that some supernatural force kept the house from toppling over that very moment.

A crowd of people had gathered on the green lawn, talking and laughing amongst one another while children played games in the grass. The men were dressed in fresh black robes while the women had donned robes of all sorts of bright colors. Every now and again, someone new would arrive with a 'crack' and appear walking up the lane a little bit later to join the crowd of visitors.

In fact, Yugi Moto arrived in this exact way, coming casually up the walk. As he reached the edge of the lawn and the crowd, he nervously began to scan the crowd for a face he recognized, but hesitated as he heard someone address him from behind.

"Excuse me, but I can't help but notice that you've been using one of our products."

Turning around, Yugi was slightly taken aback to see two people there, not one, both with freckled faces and flaming red hair. Yugi strongly suspected that, should these two decide to tell him their names, he wouldn't be able to tell them apart. They had to be brothers.

"Uh... what?" Yugi asked uncertainly.

"Our products," said one of the redheads amiably. "We're always glad to see customers outside our store."

"Or maybe you were a victim," said the other, giving Yugi a sly look.

"If that's the case, you'll have to buy something to get even." The redhead beamed at him. "Remember – it's _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_."

"Ah... okay," said Yugi, thoroughly confused now. "Um, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know exactly what you're..."

One of the two brothers sighed in mock exasperation and made a vague gesture. "We mean your chosen style of hair – "

"We think it's pure genius."

"Of course we have all colors of hair-dye products and hard, last-a-lifetime hair gel products – "

" – but surprising as it is, we're ashamed to admit we've never thought of mixing them together before. The effect is simply..."

Yugi frowned a little, his eyebrows still knitted together. "But I don't put anything in my hair," he said innocently.

The two didn't seem to be listening however as one of them said, "So, you have to tell us, were you the unfortunate victim of an attack, or are you trying to stand out?"

"It's... natural," Yugi muttered.

"What?" said one of them cheerfully.

"It's naturally this way," Yugi repeated.

They must have heard him this time, because the two exchanged looks with raised eyebrows.

"Natural you say?" said one, leaning over to get a closer look at Yugi's hair and, after a thorough inspection, straightened back up and gave his professional analysis. "I think you're lying."

Yugi didn't have time to deny it as, just then, he caught sight of Ron and Harry approaching them through the crowd.

"Fred, George," said Ron, apparently failing to notice Yugi. "Mum says she wants you to come help with – "

"Just a moment, we're a bit preoccupied," said one of the redheads, gesturing at the boy with the impressive hairstyle.

"Whuh?"

"Hey, Yugi," said Harry, glancing down at the spiky-haired boy, a little faster on the uptake than Ron. "What's going on?"

"Hi, Harry," said Yugi, sighing and looking a little worn. "Uh..."

"We're trying to get to the bottom of this, aren't we George?" said Fred, finally revealing to Yugi which twin was which.

"Exactly. See, we say that he's been using our products on his hair, but he claims it's natural. What do you think, Harry?" George wanted to know.

"Maybe he got the products somewhere else, and he's trying to protect the secret," suggested Fred.

"Er," said Harry, glancing at Yugi. "Well, his hair was always like that at school..."

Ron shrugged, also shooting a thoroughly uninterested look Yugi's way. "Yeah, it was. But who cares about that? Let's get going already."

"Why, what's Mum want that's so urgent?" asked George, still looking more interested in Yugi's hair.

"Auntie Muriel and Mum want everyone to see that old tiara that Fleur's going to be wearing," said Ron, his ears turning slightly pink.

"But we'll be seeing it at the wedding anyway," said Fred. "What're you so excited for? I didn't know our little brother was so interested in jewelry."

"I am not!" Ron said indignantly, his ears red now.

"Oh, so you're his brothers?" Yugi voiced his thoughts shyly, looking from one of the brothers to the other, "Though I probably should have guessed that..." He laughed nervously.

"You know Ron?" asked Fred curiously, forgetting his teasing for a moment.

Yugi nodded, while Harry started to edge back toward the Weasley house.

"Well, I'm going to go back now..." Harry said hesitantly and quietly, as though he thought he might be ignored anyway.

"Me too." That was Ron, still looking slightly annoyed, and the so two of them turned back toward the house.

"Well, I suppose we'd better go," said Fred.

"Wouldn't want to miss the special sneak peak of some old tiara that's probably as old and dusty as our family history," George agreed. "Or at least our attic"

Harry gave Yugi a sort of half-smile as they left and Yugi smiled back. When they were gone however, Yugi let out a small sigh. He had no idea weddings could be so stressful.

...O

Not having anything in particular to do, he took to wondering about the wedding setting for awhile. It was so bright and peaceful here. Just by looking at this place, no one would guess the dangerous war they were all caught up in the midst of. It seemed like all time had stopped for this wedding and until it was over, no one had anything to worry about. However, Yugi knew better than anyone that it wouldn't last.

Yugi's thoughts began to churn again, as they so often had since he had left Hogwarts. After this wedding was over, what were he and the Pharaoh to do? They knew that they had to stop the spirit of Bakura's Millennium Ring from whatever he was planning, but so long as they didn't even know where he was there wasn't much they could do.

_/We need to locate him as soon as possible,-/ _came the soft voice of the spirit of the Pharaoh. _/That is our priority./_

_/I know,-/_ Yugi answered. _/But we have no idea where to even start. He could be anywhere in England, or he could have gone back to Japan for all we know./_

His other self didn't answer for a moment. _/We have no other choice,-/ _he said finally. _ /The more I hear about these dark wizards of the wizarding world and this Dark Lord Voldemort, the more worried I become about the spirit's intentions. We definitely do__** not **__need them teaming up./_

Yugi looked sadly down at his Puzzle, holding it cupped in his hands. _/I know. But hey, maybe since they're after the same thing, we'll get lucky and they'll take each other out./_ He attempted a smile.

_/Perhaps,-/_ the Pharaoh answered. _/Hmm, maybe we ought to offer our support to the wizards opposing the Dark Lord so it wouldn't accidentally be __**us**__ in that position./_

_/Would they really take us seriously?-/ _Yugi asked.

The Pharaoh paused. _/...I could make them take us seriously./_

_/Other self!-/ _Yugi cried, shaking his head in disbelief. _/How, playing a Shadow Game with them?-/_

_/Well, I thought it was a good idea.../ _he sniffed.

...O

Inside the Weasely's house, all the Weaselys (save Bill, who was in another room getting ready, and Percy, who hadn't bothered to show up to the wedding at all) were in the dining room as their Aunt Muriel brought down a small, pretty wooden box. She set it on the table and siphoned off a layer of dust with her wand.

Both Aunt Muriel and Mrs. Weasley looked especially proud as they glanced around the room to make sure everyone was watching before Aunt Muriel put her hands on the lid.

The Weasely brothers didn't seem to be as excited about the tiara as their mother and aunt however and Harry also watched with minimal interest. Fleur and Hermione, who were also there, by contrast were leaning over the table in anticipation.

Aunt Muriel lifted the lid and Fleur said with a slight gasp, "Ooh, it eez exquisite!"

It was fairly pretty Harry would admit, but he was far from in total awe about it, not being much into jewelry.

"You'd better go get ready," said Mrs. Weasely, beaming at Fleur for once and Fleur, nodding, carefully took the box after the tiara had been replaced into the other room.

"It certainly is beautiful," said Hermione.

Mrs. Weasely smiled and Aunt Muriel said, also looking pleased, "It's my special treasure. I bet you kids didn't know – it's fashioned to look just like the tiara Rowena Ravenclaw used to wear; you know, one of the four founders of Hogwarts."

No one noticed Hermione's expression change subtly at these words and she asked, as casually as she could, "So was... was Rowena Ravenclaw known for wearing a tiara?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasely spoke up, nodding. "She had one tiara in particular that she always wore on special occasions and kept as her most valuable treasure, or so the legends say. It would be a very valuable artifact if anyone could find it of course, but I don't think anyone knows whatever happened to the original tiara though."

...O

A while later, Harry, Hermione, and Ron broke away from everyone else to discuss something in private at Hermione's request.

Before Hermione could speak however, Harry had a feeling he knew what she was about to say, so he asked, "You don't reckon that Ravenclaw's tiara is 'one of them,' do you?"

"So you noticed," said Hermione, nodding. "Well, it would make sense, wouldn't it?"

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked in confusion, keeping his head close so as to keep his voice down.

"Think about it, Ron," Hermione whispered impatiently. "Dumbledore told Harry that the last one was probably something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's."

"'Last one,'" Ron scoffed. "C'mon, we haven't even found _one _– What are you saying, that Aunt Muriel's tiara has been one all along?"

Hermione frowned. "No, not _that_ tiara per say – "

"Hello, Hermione!" said a cheerful voice from right behind them.

All three of them jumped about a mile and spun around. "Oh..." said Hermione nervously. "Hello, Yugi."

"I haven't seen you since school," said Yugi, smiling brightly. Turning to Harry and Ron he added, "Hello again."

Yugi doubted that the Weaselys would have invited all the Gryffindor first years to come to the wedding, so, not knowing anyone else, he'd decided to seek the Harry crew out once again. He didn't appear to notice their discomfort and only continued smiling.

"Oh, hello," said Harry, recovering.

"When's the ceremony going to start?" Yugi asked, peering around.

"Should be soon," said Hermione. There was a pause before she added conversationally, thinking of the only thing she really knew to ask Yugi besides 'how are you', "So, did Bakura come with you?"

Yugi's happy expression saddened a little. "No, he couldn't make it."

"Oh, I see. Busy, was he?" Harry said.

"Uh, yeah" Yugi said nervously. He could tell they were all curious about it since he and Bakura tended to be so often joined at the hip, but he couldn't exactly tell them his friend had been taken over by an evil spirit plotting world domination.

Luckily, at that moment, Mrs. Weasley hurried over to them, looking a little out of breath.

"I'm telling everyone that the wedding is going to be postponed just a bit – "

"What?" said Ron, looking startled and annoyed. "For how long? We'd better not be waiting around her for another – "

"Only two or three hours or so, I should think," she said airily, in a tone that was clearly meant to make Ron think she thought he was overreacting. Amazing, as Harry would have pegged Mrs. Weasely as a type A personality that would come about unhinged if anything went wrong. "I'm sure we'll still get through the reception before it gets dark."

"What's the matter?" asked Hermione. "Did something happen?"

Mrs. Weasley sighed and shook her head, looking slightly worried, but evidently trying not to. "Bill is feeling under the weather again. Too much rare meat, I think... Professor Slughorn's whipping him up a potion, but it takes a bit of time to brew. So glad that man could make it, I'm not too confident in my potions myself and its a tricky one. Bill has to look out for his health, but we would rather not put off the wedding by a whole day if we could help it, since that would be a real problem for some of our relatives visiting from far away..." Mrs. Weasely trailed off, looking anxious, though trying not to. She shook her head.

Harry guessed then that Mrs. Weasely's seemingly relatively carefree attitude was probably then out of concern for her son. If she seemed too upset about this wrench in the goings on, it would only be harder on Bill. And it was probably better for everyone's health that she didn't stress out too much Harry thought, though the guests might not appreciate the delay no matter what the reason.

As Mrs. Weasely went away again, Ron shook his head in disbelief.

"What exactly does she expect everyone to _do_ in another hour?" he asked indignantly.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe they'll start serving the refreshments or something."

"They already did," Hermione put in.

Ron groaned and muttered, "We've been waiting and waiting since about dawn... I'm not sure I won't just forget the whole thing and just go back to bed."

"Ron," said Hermione reproachfully.

Harry on the other hand looked thoughtful. "You know... I wonder if there would be time to..."

"What?" asked Hermione, looking slightly alarmed as she caught the look on Harry's face. She could always tell when Harry was planning to do something that authority figures would neither expect, nor approve of.

"I think I'll go to Hogwarts and get my old Potions book back. Mrs. Weasely and the others would be too distracted to notice me go."

"The Half-Blood Prince book?" Ron asked.

"Harry..." Hermione began, "the Half-Blood Prince is – "

"Yeah, I know who he is," said Harry, irritated. "But maybe I can find another spell or potion of _his_ to use against him or something – "

Hermione bit her lip. It was a little unnerving to know just how much Harry hated Snape. "Even if you go, you won't be able to get in," she said finally. "Not with all of Hogwarts' defenses. It doesn't matter if it's empty or not."

Harry hesitated; he'd forgotten about that. He sighed. "Well... maybe not." Hermione looked satisfied and Ron looked disappointed until he added, "But I still want to go – if just to see the castle one more time."

Yugi had been silently watching the conversation unfold for some time, though not understanding all of what they were talking about. Finally, he decided to speak up. "If you're going to Hogwarts, then maybe I should go too," he said.

The three of them whipped around to look at him in surprise. They'd somehow forgotten he was there – maybe because he was so far below their usual sight line.

"Why?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

Yugi shrugged and began slowly, "Well... no one else will be there. It could be dangerous..."

They all gave him a bemused look and Ron finally asked what they were all thinking. "Why would that make you want to go?" Apparently, the possible thought that the vertically-challenged Gryffindor first year wanted to go as another backup in case something happened hadn't even crossed their minds.

"Ah," said Yugi reddening slightly, "I guess... I just want to."

"Well," said Harry, unable to think of a reason why he shouldn't. Though it felt a little awkward bringing Yugi, who they truthfully only knew from being in the same house and having the same Apparition class. "If you're totally sure."

They walked a little ways down the path that led away from the Weasely's house and actually went in the direction of a little town called St. Otters village, before stopping not far from the spot where the guests to the wedding would arrive with a little 'pop.'

"Are you sure it's okay for you to be Apparating, Harry?" Hermione asked nervously. "You haven't passed your Apparition Test yet and you're not even seventeen."

"Technically, Ron hasn't passed his test yet either," Harry pointed out. "If we're going to do what we have to do – " (leaving out details, because Yugi was there) "then I'm going to have to do magic sometime. If the Ministry's going to try and get some sixteen-year-old's wand broken when there are dark wizards running around, then I'm worried, Hermione."

"You never know with them," Ron put in. "They just might."

"Well," said Harry, giving Hermione a small smile, "if they do come and arrest me, you have my permission to be the first to say, 'I told you so,' Hermione."

Hermione sighed. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered.

"_**Even if the item is evil... in terms of protecting its other self, I'm no different than him."**_

Okay, I'm sorry that this is a short, uneventful chapter, but it was necessary... To make up, I'll post chapter 30 next week, k? (:

Some notes:

If you're asking, 'what about the trip to the Dursleys?' UM... Well, I decided not to include it really. If I had to answer, I'd say he already went to the Dursleys before the wedding, so that's already over. I expect it'll be pretty important in book seven (with something important from Aunt Petunia's maybe), but I decided it wasn't something that fit in with this story unless Yugi or Yami Bakura had decided to go to there for some reason, but they didn't so...

I better just say right now, no, Harry, Ron, and Yugi aren't going to be arrested by the Ministry. XD I originally thought that I'd make the storyline take place after Harry's birthday, so that that wouldn't be a problem (Harry would legally be able to use magic, and we could assume that they'd all already taken their Apparition test, since all we know is that it was sometime after Harry's birthday), but it occurred to me that it made less sense for them to wait around two and a half months unless they were waiting for that exact reason. And then what would Yami Bakura and Yugi do during that time?

So anyway, thank you, everyone who reviewed! Please r and r. (:

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

I seem to remember that my official feeling when I was first doing this chapter was, 'this kind of sucks...' And reading it again, I find that instinct was totally dead on. XD Mainly I just posted this chapter when I did back then because this chapter was sort of a block, and I knew if I tried to make it better I would be seriously discouraged from working on this fic. So I just slapped it up and called it a 'necessary transition' chapter. The characters all acted sort of unnaturally just to progress the story... I kind of regret the hack-job work I did on this chapter now, though I tried to fix it up a little. But again, I knew I would get stuck on this chapter if I tried too hard... Please, just ignore it.

(last edited 4/16/2007)


	30. Enter Lord Voldemort

Hey, it's a week later, just like I said. (: I can't believe it was just before I went on our yearly summer trip last year that I was half-way through the rough draft of this chapter! XD (yeh, it's been that long ago D: -)

Also (I have to mention this XD), I was looking at this paper I'd filled out sometime back in November, and it was basically one of those paper where you fill out what classes you're taking, cite goals you have for school, your life etc. Well, there was one that said, 'your goal for this school year' (with examples such as, improve grades, do half-an-hour of homework everyday, etc)... and I wrote "Get up to Chapter 30 on my fanfiction by the end of the school year!" XD! Now, looking back I think, 'Okay, what does that have to do with school?'

**-30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30 -30**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them. Or the quotes at the end.

Chapter 30: Enter Lord Voldemort

A dark form strode quickly across the large barren field, his feet crunching over dead grass and dry gravel as he walked with a casual sort of gait, his black trench coat flaring out behind him. Cloaked from the sight of anyone who may have happened to be passing that empty property and, more importantly, from the people of the large mansion he was approaching, he moved without the slightest hint of fear.

He stopped just outside the entrance and gazed upward at the tall, crumbling old building. This was definitely it – there was just no mistaking a place that took him of all people until nightfall to find thanks to the various magical spells and hexes cast to confuse the senses of all who approached it. Of course, since his spirit monster could only use his 'camouflage of darkness' ability at night, perhaps it was fortunate.

"Diabound," he whispered, smirking, "take me through the stone walls of this mansion to the main room – Just two floors below the top."

The giant snake-like beast that had kept one huge clawed hand protectively in front of his master encircled him and took him up in his hand. The monster moving up through the walls and floors with the ease of a ghost.

The man emerged from the wall on the floor exactly two floors below the very top of building and, as he set both feet on the floor, he recalled Diabound to the confines of his soul. He was now fully visible, but it didn't matter. He had not come here to sneak around, nor had he made any effort to hide himself upon his entry. In fact, it would not surprise him if the gigantic invisible form of Diabound had already set off whatever wizarding alarms had been placed in and around this building. He'd decided to risk a direct conference with this so-called Dark Lord; he was confident that the extra power boost he'd gained with Diabound combined with the advantage of the Millennium Eye made him strong enough to beat this enemy down if he had to.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings before starting casually down the hallway he'd just appeared in, his feet creaking softly on the old floor boards. He observed how surprisingly deserted this place seemed for supposedly being the Headquarters of the famous Lord Voldemort. But with the power of his Millennium Eye he had been able to extract this location from various followers and even from the Dark Lord himself. The distance the power of the Eye could be extended to had no limits.

The spirit walked down the length of the hall until he reached a door at the end of it and stopped. He did not knock or announce his presence, but simply waited.

Sure enough, a moment later, there was a somewhat high-pitched, though terrifyingly cold voice from within the room that said, "There is an uninvited guest standing outside the door, Wormtail. Would you be so kind as to let him in?"

"Yes, my Lord," replied a squeaky voice that the spirit could only assume to be that of Wormtail. The voice had a permanent, pitiful whine about it that made the spirit sneer slightly. One would not guess that this man was a great lord looking at his pathetic excuse for servants. If this had turned out to be the Dark Lord's right-hand man, the spirit certainly would not have wanted to meet the lackeys and foot-soldiers.

A short, balding man appeared as the door opened and the spirit wiped his expression clean, making it completely unreadable as he waited for Lord Voldemort to decide whether to let him in or to kill him on the spot. Of course it didn't really matter all that much – the spirit would have his conference whether the Dark Lord wanted one or not.

"Shall I kill him right now, my lord?" Lord Voldemort's pathetic servant asked as if the spirit wasn't even there, leaving him still standing outside the door.

"No, bring him inside, Wormtail," said Lord Voldemort. "I want to find who had the ability – and the nerve – to penetrate the security around my mansion."

_'"Security" he says,'_ the spirit thought mockingly, but said nothing and only followed Wormtail into the room.

Four tables sat side by side in the room, candles hanging suspended in midair served as lighting, sending long shadows across the floor. Wormtail led the spirit right down the center of the room, passing between the tables as they went. Finally they came to stand right in front of the Dark Lord where he was sitting in a sort of throne behind yet another long table near the back of the room, on a strip of floor elevated from the rest. The spirit resisted the urge to smirk. It was certainly a pale imitation, but it was obvious what place this room was meant to resemble.

After his red eyes had roved the spirit, taking in his bizarre appearance, Lord Voldemort finally spoke.

"I believe you heard what I said to Wormtail a moment ago," he said smoothly. "I'll ask you directly now, and please keep in mind that my curiosity is the only thing allowing you to keep your life for the time being. Tell me... how did you manage to get past the traps and curses set around the mansion?"

Keeping his head bowed, the spirit answered in his politest tone, "I appreciate your mercy, even if it is only a few more minutes of life. How did I get in? Well, that is a bit difficult explain, I must say." He paused delicately, then went on, "I guess first of all, you would have to know that I... have a _certain gift_ for sneaking into places undetected."

"I see," said Lord Voldemort idly. "A gift that has proven quite unfortunate for you. So you are saying you're some kind of thief then, are you?" The other man didn't deny it. Though the Dark Lord wasn't quite convinced of this entirely too simple explanation, he didn't bother to press him and instead went on, "Well, why did you feel the need to sneak into my mansion, Thief?"

The spirit didn't answer right away, keeping his single eye concealed under his long, white hair. He started to speak, but the Dark Lord cut him off.

"Look me in the eye when you speak!" he ordered harshly, his high-pitched voice ringing in the hollow throne-like room.

The spirit hesitated. He knew that Lord Voldemort required eye contact to employ his Legilimency power, a wizard technique used to read minds. Though it paled in comparison to the spirit's Millennium Eye, it was still effective enough to determine whether he was lying or not. But at the same time, the Dark Lord hadn't asked him anything he wanted to lie about anyway, at least not yet.

Unflinching, the spirit lifted his head, locking his crimson-brown eye with Lord Voldemort's snake-like red ones.

The expression of the child before him was placid and docile, and Lord Voldemort didn't flinch as he gazed straight back into that single eye, but all the same, the Dark Lord felt a note of unease settle over him for a moment. Without thinking about it, the Dark Lord sat up a little straighter, more interested than before.

"I wanted to meet you," said the boy. "I've heard some amazing and wonderful – no, _awe-inspiring_ things about you, Lord Voldemort."

Wormtail let out a sort of muffled cry at the youth's gall to actually say his master's name and the Dark Lord's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

The spirit stared up at Voldemort, his lips curled into a grin as he dared the Dark Lord to try intimidating him with words again – or simply end this tedious conference right now. It was true; the spirit had been a little anxious to meet this Dark Lord who, according to what his Millennium Eye told him, sought immortality and had managed to gain such strength with the limited powers of wizard magic.

"Is there anything else I might be interested in?" asked Voldemort, no longer relaxed like a cat playing with a mouse, but frowning down at the spirit with calculating eyes. "The longer you keep me interested..."

"The longer I have to live," the spirit finished, growing a little tired of the Dark Lord's reminders. "Well," he began, "I doubt you want my whole life story, but I will tell you that my exceptional skill comes from Egypt, where my origins lie. Is that interesting?"

Wormtail spoke first, "He's lying!" he squeaked. "Look how pale he is – he can't possibly be Egyptian."

Lord Voldemort was silent, and only continued to stare down into the spirit's eye. He lifted his head from the hand he'd been resting it on. What was this odd feeling he got from this teenage boy?

"He is telling the truth," said the Dark Lord after a long while. Wormtail looked around at his master in surprise for a moment before quickly looking away again and nodding rapidly and babbling his agreement. Whatever the Dark Lord said was always the final word.

The spirit's smirk broadened and he stared back up blatantly at Voldemort, his expression not even holding the pretense of fear.

Voldemort's frown deepened as he considered the man standing in front of him. "Who are you exactly?" he asked finally, his voice cold and not breaking eye contact for a second.

"I've already told you," the spirit answered softly, in a would-be un-confrontational tone that one would use in speaking to a child.

Voldemort's lips tightened. This boy was far too arrogant. On the other hand – and Voldemort wasn't sure why – but he sensed vaguely that this boy exuded an aura that warned of danger. He couldn't be an ordinary teen to sneak into this mansion and then show no fear at having an audience with the owner. Even if the boy refused to tell the Dark Lord his whole story, it could only be concluded that someone with that kind of ability was a threat. If this thief was looking for a job or to be recruited as one of his Death Eaters, then he was going to be sadly disappointed. Even if his skills _would_ have turned out to be useful later, it was not worth the risk, not at this late stage of the game; after all, Voldemort had just barely eradicated the biggest threat to his plans and it wouldn't be long before he took out the boy who'd damaged his reputation so much.

"Well then," said Lord Voldemort, "if you don't have any more to say, then I think I'll show you the way out. Not the way you came in, if you don't mind." Sliding his long dark wand out of his robes he pointed it directly at the young man.

Voldemort hesitated as he thought he caught a glimpse of a flash of light coming from underneath the stranger's odd scarf, where his left eye ought to have been, but it was gone in an instant and Voldemort wasn't sure if it had been there at all. He opened his mouth to say the curse that would end the thief's life, but at that moment, the wild-haired youth spoke again.

"My lord," the spirit said in a partially respectful, partially mocking tone as he pretended to be oblivious to the wand pointed at him, "I knew that you would probably not be impressed if my only reason for being here was to meet you – so I considered what I could possibly do that would be of use to you."

The Dark Lord lowered his wand a little, intrigued. He was the one in control of this situation, there was no need to be hasty. "And what did you decide?" he asked.

"Well you see," the teen began, "I am well aware that it was by your careful planning that one of your greatest adversaries was eliminated with little sacrifice on your part not so long ago."

Though in truth the youth had somewhat exaggerated Voldemort's part in this, the Dark Lord didn't deny it. "What of it, boy?"

The boy smiled in return. "It won't further your goals for gaining control of this world, but I thought you might like some sort of... _trophy_ for that accomplishment. After all, you went to all that trouble and you don't have a single pair of half-moon spectacles to show for it."

The spirit smirked a bit to himself as he saw he'd struck a cord. For many, the simple destruction of a dreaded enemy would be enough of a satisfaction in and of itself, and Voldemort himself was happy enough with it – but not completely content. He liked having something to _show_ for what he'd done, something tangible. Through the Millennium Eye, not only were the Dark Lord's thoughts available to the spirit, but he could read much deeper into the man's mind. His deepest desires, his worst fears, even the way he saw the world was all as clear as day to the spirit. There was no doubt that Voldemort was strong and extremely clever, but as far as true complexity of his mind went, it was nothing compared to Dumbledore's. But then again, perhaps Voldemort was just easier for the spirit to understand because the two of them were so similar...

Voldemort watched the spirit with narrowed eyes, his expression calculating and shrewd again. He didn't answer right away.

"Well," said the spirit, filling the silence, "what would you say if I told you I could stealone of the trinkets from dear Dumbledore's office and bring it back to you? Wouldn't you consider that a good offering?"

Voldemort gave the thief a hard look. Bit by bit, he was beginning to realize that this thief was attempting to play some sort of mind game with him. Seeing the vague shapes of the thoughts and feelings behind that eye, it definitely felt as though this youth was attempting to get inside _his_ head while the Dark Lord probed his. Such audacity. Yet though this thief was really only a child in body, Voldemort thought he caught a glimpse of something lurking in this mind that was beyond his appearance. A powerful, dark force.

Voldemort clenched the armrests of his throne. What was this feeling? Was it fear? Would he, the greatest dark wizard of all time be even for a moment be made hesitant by baseless speculation on a mere boy? The answer was obvious. He was _the_ Dark Lord, the one whose name most were even afraid to speak, and this 'thief' or whatever he was was absolutely nothing. A strangely-dressed young man with a name no one knew. It was pointless to dwell on this any longer.

"Your offer is tempting," Voldemort began, a slight sneer in his tone, "but I believe I must decline. I will retrieve a bit of a well-earned reward myself, when the time comes. Perhaps after I have succeeded in bringing the entire wizarding world to its knees before me. And what's more... I don't think I should be wasting my time with the likes of you, _Thief_."

The Dark Lord raised his wand once again and pointed it directly at the spirit. "You're time on this plane of existence is... _up_."

The thief's expression remained blank. "I should warn you, Master Lord Voldemort," he said softly, still with that slight hint of mockery about it, "If you try to use that curse on me, I assure you, our relationship from henceforth will be most unpleasant."

Lord Voldemort's face broke into a smile for the first time, marring his already disfigured, snake-like face. "Unpleasant, perhaps, but only for one of us. Allow _me_ to assure _you_, that won't be myself... _Avada Kedavra!_"

The spirit's face remained vacant as the beam of green death shot towards him. Then, as the attack was about to strike him and end everything forever, his face suddenly broke into a maniacal grin.

A bright flash of light flooded the room for a fraction of a moment and the two dark wizards in the room were forced to shield their eyes.

When everything became visible once again, Lord Voldemort's eyes snapped to the spot where the thief had been. He clenched his hands tightly on the armrest in paralyzed shock, eyes wide, face contorted.

The young man, dressed in his long black trench coat and the black scarf wrapped around his head, was still standing in the place he'd been a moment before, completely unharmed. The only evidence of the attack was the slight haze of green mist shimmering all around. The youth lifted his head to stare straight into Lord Voldemort's eyes, and his lips curled into a broad smirk.

Lord Voldemort just sat there a moment, stunned, dimly aware of a trembling Wormtail falling to his knees somewhere off to his right. The Dark Lord stared at the man in front of him and he caught a glimpse of the ominous glint of scales in the room's dim light.

The spirit chuckled softly. Then, before he could help himself, he threw back his head and began to laugh out loud, his shoulders shaking. When he lowered his head, he grew calm once again. He said, his eye still gleaming with sadistic pleasure despite his calm, "Did you honestly believe that such a pathetic power could defeat _me_? Let me tell you something, 'my lord'... you're _three thousand years_ away from having the mere capability of competing with me."

It was then that Voldemort saw what the vague gleam of scales belonged to and his red eyes widened still further as he saw the outline of the gigantic monster looming over the thief, it's hand closing protectively over him. Then, the monstrous beast began to sink down _through_ the floor, pulling away from the thief. Voldemort's heart clenched and he stared down at the place where the monster had disappeared. It wasenormous. But no, that was of no matter. The real question was, how had it resisted the killing curse?

"What's wrong?" the spirit asked, almost gently. "Did you catch a glimpse of the instrument of your demise?"

Before he knew what was happening, Lord Voldemort suddenly felt his entire body being constricted. He could not move! He looked down and saw the giant hand that was holding him for a moment before it became invisible once more, so that it appeared he were squeezing his own arms against his sides by choice. However, he could still see the slight shimmer of scales reflected from where they were struck by the dim light from the flickering candles.

He struggled a little, but he soon saw that it was pointless. A monster that had blocked the _Avada Kedavra_? It was impossible. Harry Potter had only ever been the one to do such a thing, but that had been under different circumstances. This – This _thief-child_...

"Who_ are _you?" Voldemort demanded again, staring at the thief in hate, though now there was a small, true flicker of unease buried in the depths of his red eyes as well.

In reply, the youth began to walk slowly toward the immobilized Dark Lord. He leaped with easy grace up onto the long table the dark lord had been sitting at, long black trench coat swirling around his legs. He knelt on the table in front of the dark throne, leaning over the imprisoned dark wizard.

"I am... the _messenger_ of the _true_ darkness." the spirit answered softly. "You have gained much power in the journey of your life as I did so long ago, but to gain what you have been seeking all along, it is impossible on your own. Only when the gods of Egypt bestow their powers upon you may you reach that level that you wish to rise to. I am the one who has come to usher in the age of chaos and destruction... and I've been given the tools to do so by the greater powers of darkness."

Voldemort's insides were churning as he listened to the thief's words. Was this man saying that he'd been given powers by an evil being – a _god_ – of some kind then? Was he mad? Yet there was no denying that this boy possessed power. Perhaps the thief was simply trying to intimidate him with words, and his talk of 'gods' were only a tool to make Voldemort believe he was invincible. Yet, as he stared into his eye, he saw no lie there.

"So, may I ask, what does a dark god want with me?" Voldemort asked was an air of a complete lack of concern, as though they were discussing the matter over tea. He shifted slightly against the claw's grip in a pretense of getting into a more comfortable position.

The thief smiled. "I must comment that it is truly amazing what you have managed to accomplish on your own, with your own magic and no additional outside force of consequence to merit mentioning. However, it is apparent to me that you could never have wielded _Shadow Power_ anyway – which makes your potential for becoming a servant of the powers of darkness like I am... nonexistent."

Voldemort stared down at the thief suspiciously, not quite certain he had comprehended.

The spirit continued in a calm tone, "I see that I will have to spell it out for you: You are a powerful Dark Lord who has gained great power and prestige by your own means. Your goals are the same as ours; we are reaching for the same thing. However, _you_ are reaching for it for _yourself_, while _we_ reach it for _us_. Do you see the problem? If you cannot become a servant like I am, then you are an enemy who only stands in our way... _Mortal_."

At this last word, Voldemort felt a stab of hatred. This boy would dare to call him that? He, Lord Voldemort, more immortal than anyone else this world had ever seen. Yet he also felt for just an instant his insides knot. It was not a mere seventeen-year-old boy with extraordinary powers standing before him, for that would be nothing to fear, but the incarnation of some great evil power that was watching him from the underworld. At least, that was his immediate instinct , the first thought that shot through his mind. However, the plausibility of such a thing was so small, when one stopped to think about it. Was he really going to fall for such an obvious bluff?

"Interesting," said Voldemort, so coolly that one wouldn't have guessed he was being held captive by a giant invisible monster. "So then you're true motive in coming here was to kill me. You were right: I didn't find your personal history all that riveting. Go ahead, lowly Thief, and kill me with those powers given to you by your 'god.'"

Mocking and un-intimidated, Voldemort met the spirit's eye with his flaming red ones. And for the first time, the previously immovable smile on the boy's lips flickered. A flare rose for a moment in that dark eye as the youth stared at Voldemort, as though he might snarl at any moment 'Such insolence!'

However, the expression lasted only a moment before the smirk was back as the child regained control, growing perfectly relaxed again. "Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves," said the youth. "I in fact did not come here to kill you – at least not at the present time. I will let you live a while longer, so make good use of that time. Kill some more people, make your wizard government squirm..." His grin became ironic and he continued, "If you keep me interested, I may decide to put off your death even longer that I was planning to."

Voldemort glared down at the thief with narrowed eyes. "Are you afraid then?"

The youth shook his head. "No, I wouldn't say that. It's just that I don't think I need to kill you just yet. But I am surprised – Most are not so anxious to die." He grinned, and the Dark Lord thought the boy was just aware of how ironic a statement that was.

Voldemort didn't reply. Of course he wouldn't die so easily. This man thought that he had the great Dark Lord's life in his clutches and was treating the situation almost casually. But even if this monster did actually manage to kill this body, he would come back. He would always come back.

"So," the boy said in a pleasant, louder tone, almost conversationally, "now that I've explained all that, let us return to the small matter of that trophy. If I went and fetched something out of his office, would that suffice?"

Voldemort scoffed. "The best of luck to you in even making it past the front door."

The spirit smiled. "I told you, my lord: I am a thief. This area is what one my call my forté."

"It doesn't matter how much supposed talent you have," said Voldemort dismissively. "It is impossible to get into Hogwarts with all its defenses, let alone the Headmaster's office."

"We shall see," said the boy lightly without the least bit of concern.

"Well now," said Voldemort after a moment's pause, "if that's what you're planning to do, then you'd better get to it as soon a possible." Without warning, there was a bright flash of red light as a spell from Voldemort's wand which he had managed to free from the beast's imprisoning grasp struck the monster's hand. The monstrous form let out a roar of pain and its grip loosened, though the creature refused to let go completely.

The spirit of course knew that the spells and shadow magic bedded within his soul monster would protect Diabound from the killing curse and many other kinds of wizard magic, but it was not completely impervious to the spells.

The boy grimaced, his facade of careless calm falling aside for a moment again as he glared, touching the back of his own hand.

Voldemort was just able to catch sight of the stinging welt there, just exactly where his spell had struck the beast. His red eyes narrowed, a hint of triumph burning in his bright red eyes.

The thief recovered quickly and the smirk was back again. "Yes, you are probably right," he replied courteously.

The monster at last pulled away from Voldemort and his throne. Though still mostly invisible, Voldemort saw it move silently through the air to hover just behind the thief once more. It closed its claws over the thief so that only the upper-half of his body was visible and slowly began to glide backward toward the wall, its master in hand.

"Remember, I'll be back in a couple of days to deliver your present," said the thief. "Do something worthwhile in the meantime." He laughed softly and his coarse laughter echoed all around the large, empty room as he vanished through the wall.

Voldemort stared at the wall where the thief had disappeared, frowning in thought. Now, what to do about this unwelcome nuisance in the proceedings of all his plans... Though the child was likely delusional in thinking he was a messenger of darkness from some sort of evil god, that monster of his certainly could not be passed off as a figment of the boy's imagination. He had not had something so disconcerting happen since Dumbledore's unexpected appearance at the Ministry a couple of years ago. However...

Remembering the red mark on the thief's hand when he'd attacked the monster, Voldemort smirked slightly. He had a feeling that this man was not so immortal as would have the dark lord believe. But it would still be better if he had more information.

"M-Master...?" said Wormtail, shaking and whimpering in fear.

Voldemort's eyes moved down to where his servant was sitting on his knees on the floor. He'd almost forgotten he was there. As the biggest coward of the century, Wormtail was probably about to die of fear from everything the thief had said and done.

"M-My lord..." Wormtail moaned. "What are... What are we going to...?"

"What are we going to do about that thief?" Voldemort finished for him, not having the patience to listen to Wormtail stutter through the whole thing. "Well, for right now, I suppose we will simply have to await his return."

"W-Wait for him?" Wormtail repeated, startled. "B-But... he said when he got back he was going to – "

"However," said Voldemort, cutting Wormtail off, "we will not going to simply sit around, twiddling our thumbs while he's gone. That much should be obvious. Hmm, so this thief says he's from Egypt, eh? Then that would definitely be the most appropriate place to begin looking to find out what he is exactly and what powers he possesses. I caught a glimpse of his mind while he was here, so I know exactly where to begin my investigation."

"A-Amazing, my lord!" said Wormtail sycophantically, bobbing his head in agreement. "Yes, my lord, of course you're right!"

Voldemort ignored Wormtail and tapped his chin thoughtfully before he commanded suddenly, "Wormtail! Send for two of my Death Eaters immediately."

Startled, Wormtail jumped and cringed slightly. "Y-Yes, r-right away, my lord!" he squeaked, and quickly hurried off.

Yes, Voldemort was sure he could get rid of this young man. He had already gotten rid of Dumbledore, the strongest wizard in the world, so what was some thief who just happened to crawl up out of the shadows at an inopportune moment? He was nothing... or at least he'd be nothing very soon.

"_**Darkness is a mirror that throws your own fears back at you. Fear that swallows those with weak hearts... like you."**_

And that's chapter 30. I'm sorry if Voldemort's not really in character... I don't really understand him as much as I do other characters (maybe because we don't see him as much? I don't know; I guess I should have researched him)

And Peter, to what you said, yeh, you have good guesses! (but you were saying that same thing all the way back in what, chapter 6 right? XD so maybe I'm just too obvious (; -) The Yugioh gang? Who says they're going to be here? -(but maybe I'll surprise everyone anyway :D) Duels are soo hard to write and even when written, they often come out totally boring. Buut... I do have plans for one duel. (: -(am I giving too much away? I dunno, I just feel a lot like talking right now, so... D: -)

Thank for all your reviews! I probably wouldn't haven't gotten this far without all your support. -:D

(ps... I got over 100,000 words this time, didn't I? Yay, celebration time!-)

(earlier vers. last edited 4/21/2007)


	31. Connection of the Wands

Wow, I think this may be the longest chapter yet. (:

**-31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31 -31**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, Harry Potter, or any of the characters in them; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JKR respectively. I don't own the quotes at the end either.

Chapter 31: Connection of the Wands

On the country side stood an imposing castle that almost looked like something out of a fairytale. It loomed over the landscape, giving off an aura of power and mysticism that if one took the time to think about it, he would realize it wasn't only because of the structure's size. A large white stone covered in flowers sat just to one side of the castle. Unlike the castle, the stone seemed to exude an aura of tragedy, but just as surely one could find themselves comforted by its presence.

Suddenly, the sound of several loud, consecutive cracks shattered the silence and several people appeared just outside the large castle's grounds.

"That was really good, Yugi," said Hermione, smiling to hide her surprise. "You're probably the first first year ever to be able to Apparate."

Yugi grinned sheepishly. "Not just me; Bakura can Apparate too. And considering we're probably the first first years that are older than eleven..."

"That's true," Hermione admitted.

"Hey, Yugi," said Harry. He gave the shorter boy a serious look. "I want you to get going as fast as you can at the first sign of danger, okay? Get out as fast as you can and don't worry about anything else."

"What do you think will be dangerous?" Yugi asked curiously. Actually, that had been his own first thought when he'd heard Harry say he wanted to pay a visit to Hogwarts; he knew the thought of them being inside or around an empty school literally miles from another living soul did seem frightening, but it would only be dangerous if there was someone waiting there to get anyone who got close... Hmm, maybe he shouldn't be thinking about it so much. He was already psyching himself out and they weren't even inside the school yet.

"Just," said Harry softly, his mind flitting to a tall man with red eyes and a face like a snake, "be sure to take care of yourself Yugi. Just in case."

"I will," said Yugi, just as serious. "But I'll make sure you guys are taken care of too."

Harry gave Yugi a sort of half-smile as an oblivious Ron spoke up, sounding a little impatient, "Come on, let's get closer."

As the four walked down the sloping lawns toward the castle, Harry felt his eyes wander to the large white tombstone, barely visible on the other side of the school and could not help but feel a slight pang. But all the same, he was glad to be back here. Even if the castle was not nor every could be the same as the six years he'd spent here, the castle was a place of cherished memories. Even if Dumbledore was no longer of this world, Harry could not help but feel, standing in front of this castle, that their old headmaster was there with them, his spirit ready to support them on their dangerous mission that they would soon be undertaking.

Hermione spoke up, "Well, don't forget we probably won't be able to get in with all the newest security around the castle – "

"We already know, Hermione," Ron cut in, rolling his eyes. "We heard the first time."

"Security?" queried the inexperienced first year. He shot a glance over his shoulder as though expecting a guard in a black suit and a pair of dark sunglasses was about to dodge out from around the corner.

"She means like spells and stuff they cast around the castle to keep people out and to protect the students inside," Harry clarified, pulling himself out of his thoughts. "They added a lot when the Ministry finally admitted that Voldemort was returned to power last year."

"Yeah, nobody's _actually_ here," said Ron. Then he added in a somewhat joking tone that made Hermione sigh in exasperation, "Except Filch maybe. I reckon he lives at the school, so he can conspire with Ms. Norris over the summer on how they would torture students the next school year."

"Oh," Yugi said, looking back at the school. "So... do you think Filch was the one who left the doors open, then?"

"What're you talking about? The doors aren't open," said Ron, but did a double take as he glanced at the school and saw for himself that the doors were indeed open, even to the point of hanging off their hinges.

"Maybe Filch was cleaning something up and forgot to close the door behind him?" Harry suggested doubtfully.

"No way," said Ron, staring at the broken doors. "Unless he was _really_ mad about something."

"No," said Hermione, white-faced. "Whoever it is, it isn't Filch. Maybe – Maybe we should go."

Harry was thinking the same thing. However, he couldn't help but be a little curious. "Let's get a closer look first," he said.

Hermione looked as though she might argue, but she said nothing as Ron and Yugi were already moving toward the school. As they got closer, it became apparent that the doors hadn't just been opened with a great deal of force – it was more like they'd been blown apart by a bomb. One of the doors had one of its hinges broken, creaking eerily in the slight breeze, while the other one wasn't even as lucky as that; it laid just inside the doorway, its hinges having been ripped from the sides of the castle. Scorch marks stained the front sides of both doors.

"It sort of looks like..." Ron started, "someone got here before us."

"Impossible," Hermione whispered, walking up to the door in a kind of daze, unable to do much else but stare in total disbelief. "Nobody should be able to get through all those protective spells."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, stunned. He'd found that out the hard way the previous year. There wasn't a single spell in any spell book that could get through those doors.

"Of course, there's only one person I can think of who would even have a chance of doing something like this," said Hermione, sharing a look with Harry. "But what I can't figure out is, why would he have come here?"

Harry frowned a little in thought. In truth, he had an idea. Voldemort was a little obsessed with Hogwarts - Maybe he was already making his move to make it his. Now that Dumbledore was gone, what did Voldemort really have to worry about? Harry's stomach rolled over as he thought that he might have to face Voldemort so soon, before he'd even had a chance to destroy Voldemort's 'immortality'...

"Maybe he wants to face me," Harry said quietly.

Hermione looked stricken, while Ron went pale. "You think he's _here_?" Ron asked.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered. "Let's go – You know we can't go in. We're not ready."

Harry nodded. A part of him didn't want to run away, but at the same time, he knew it would just be stupid to confront Voldemort before they'd finished their mission. "Okay," he agreed. He turned around. "Yugi, we're going now – "

But to Harry's surprise, Yugi was no longer there. They peered into the castle just in time to see Yugi disappear around a corner.

"What the – " Ron demanded. "What does he – "

"Let's go," said Harry, with a bit of a sigh. And with that, the three took off into the castle after their friend.

...O

The pharaoh ran through the castle, taking sharp turns as he headed for the seventh floor. This presence – !

He was running up the steps two at a time when Yugi contacted him, the boy seemingly startled at the abrupt change.

_/Other Self!-/_ he called. _/What's wrong? What happened?-/_

_/I sense him,-/_ said the pharaoh, running down the corridor toward the next staircase. _/He's here_..._!-/_

_/Who's here?-/_ Yugi asked, confused.

_/Who else would it be?-/_

Yugi didn't speak for a moment. He knew exactly who the pharaoh meant. Yugi had to admit, he was both glad to know where Bakura was at least, but the spirit's presence made him wary. _/How do you know?-/ _Yugi asked.

_/Hard to say,-/_ said the pharaoh, starting to pant as he reached the final corner and ran down the corridor of the seventh floor. _ /An insubstantial presence of some sort... But it's unmistakable./_

Reaching a pile of rubble sitting in the middle of the hall, he rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. When he was done he stood up straight, "I know you're here," he shouted. "Show yourself, Thief!"

He heard a trace of ghost laughter that seemed to resonate from the walls themselves and he looked all around, trying to pick out the spirit's location.

"_Let's go somewhere more private, shall we?" _said the voice and before he knew what was happening, something reached up out of the ground and pulled him down into the stone floor just as Harry and the others rounded the corner.

"Where's Yugi?" asked Ron. "Didn't he run up here?"

"Maybe he ran into one of the classrooms," Hermione suggested.

"Maybe," said Harry doubtfully. Strange – For a second, he could have sworn he saw Yugi being dragged down into the floor. But then, the light of the candles was sort of dim, so it was possible his eyes had just been playing tricks on him.

He shook his head, deciding to forget it as they walked down the length of the corridor.

"Why the heck did he run all the way up here?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, really," Harry muttered. You wouldn't think someone as short as Yugi could run very fast, but it had been all they could do to keep him in sight as he'd turned down the different corridors. At least they hadn't run into Voldemort – yet. But could Voldemort, if he was really here, have gotten Yugi already?

"Hey, what's that?" Ron asked as they got almost to the end of the corridor.

Suddenly, something felt wrong. Harry ran forward, hoping, _wishing_ that it wasn't true. He stopped and stared down in the same spot Yugi had been a moment before.

"Harry, what's – " Hermione began, but stopped as she came up behind him, and saw for herself. Her eyes slowly filled with tears and she covered her mouth. "Oh," she mumbled. "Oh, Harry..."

"Wow," Ron whispered as Harry felt a shiver of rage flicker down his spine.

They all stood around the place that had once been the entrance to Dumbledore's office. But it was not an entrance any longer. The stone gargoyle that had once acted as a guard, only allowing those who knew whatever silly password the Headmaster had come up with laid shattered on the stone floor. Its stone head sat at Harry's feet, its jaws hanging open, its stone eyes even more blank than they ever had been before.

"I can't believe it," said Hermione softly.

Instead of answering her, Harry took off, dashing up the exposed hidden staircase to Dumbledore's office. He didn't know why he bothered – He already knew what he was going to find. But still he could hope that maybe...

As he reached the door to Dumbledore's office, he hesitated for a moment, afraid of what he was going to find. But he knew he could not leave here without seeing for himself. So, swallowing his fear, he entered the room.

The place was, as he had known it would be, completely trashed. The small whirring objects Dumbledore had always kept in his office laid scattered about the floor, the old desk overturned, and Dumbledore's pensive lay on its side, the basin's liquid contents seeping out all over the floor.

Harry took a moment to take in all the horrors before snapping his head upward to glare at the portraits of the previous headmasters, many of which had also been tilted askew this way and that, as though disturbed by some great earthquake.

"Who was it?" Harry demanded loudly and several of the portraits cringed at his tone of voice. "Who did this?" He already knew who it was, but he wanted to hear it. He wanted to hear the name of the guilty one.

"We... We don't know," said one of the former Headmasters after a moment.

"Liar," Harry accused coldly. "You were _here_. Of _course_ you know."

"No we don't," said a calm voice and Harry was startled to lay eyes on Dumbledore's portrait.

"Yes you do," Harry argued weakly, unable to hold onto his anger completely as he laid his eyes on the visage of his old Headmaster and mentor.

"You think so?" said Dumbledore lightly, just as calm as before. "But alas, we truly couldn't see the intruder. He was, in some manner, to the best of our knowledge... cloaked, somehow."

"An invisibility cloak?" Harry guessed, confusion and curiosity making him forget his anger for a moment.

"Well, I saw some sort of a monster," one of the other headmasters piped up pompously.

"Yes, I'm sure I saw scales reflected in the pensive," said another. "What was it?"

"It certainly wasn't like any magical creature I've known."

Soon the entire room was abuzz with saying how they were sure they'd seen some sort of great beast, and Harry's head started to hurt.

"Enough!" he said finally and spun around, abruptly exiting the room. It took a lot of effort to leave Dumbledore, even if it was just a portrait. He had to tell himself that that wasn't Dumbledore – It was just an imprint, a shadow. Dumbledore was gone.

He met Ron and Hermione waiting anxiously just at the base of the stairs, fidgeting.

"Well?" Hermione asked tentatively, but relaxed a little as she saw that Harry didn't look so angry anymore.

"C'mon..." Harry muttered, feeling drained. "Let's go find Yugi and get out of here."

...O

The pharaoh struggled against the giant invisible hand clamped immovably around his torso, dragging him down through the many stone floors of the castle.

Sensing the spirit of the Millennium Ring, he struggled harder and tried to yell, but he found that nothing came out. They still seemed to be speeding through solid stone – impossible. What had the spirit done?

The giant hand that was holding him abruptly let go and he fell downward, landing hard on his knees. Despite the sharp soreness, he immediately leaped to his feet without so much as a wince and surveyed his new surroundings. Seeing the giant closed doors of the Great Hall, he realized he'd been dumped back at the castle's entrance. His gaze moved from the Great Hall's doors as he looked for the person who'd brought him here to show himself.

Sure enough, it wasn't long before he saw a figure walk out of the shadows and into the light streaming through the castle's high windows. Dressed in his usual black trench coat and his pale face illuminated by the afternoon light, "Bakura" smiled ill-naturedly.

"Ah, pharaoh," he said in a deceptively pleasant tone. "Just the person I was hoping to see."

"What do you want?" demanded the pharaoh, eyes narrowed at the spirit. Though by this time he was beginning to feel distinctly worn. "Whatever it is, I hope you're planning to make it quick. I don't really have the time."

"Ah," said the spirit. "And here I thought all that running you did to come after me the moment you realized I was here was voluntary. I suppose that means I was mistaken."

The pharaoh frowned, annoyed. Of course the spirit would see through the posturing. He would have to find better ways of being insulting.

"In any case, you're in no hurry," said the spirit, shrugging slightly, though his lips still curled in malicious pleasure. "Your little friends can wait if it is them you are worried about. Besides, the message I wanted to deliver to you is a short one."

"Are you the one who destroyed the front doors?" said the pharaoh unexpectedly. "For what purpose?"

The spirit shrugged his shoulders again. "I'm here because there's something I wanted here. Of course it wasn't strictly necessary for me to destroy the doors to get in, but I thought it was a nice touch. And it paved the way for any useless little insect I wish to allow inside..." His voice dropped to nothing more than a hiss, injected with forceful meaning, "like you."

The pharaoh reacted slightly, but quickly quashed the flare of annoyance at the insult. Instead, he asked, deciding to take the spirit's bait this time, "And what could you have possibly wanted from here?"

The spirit grinned in a way that confirmed to the pharaoh that the spirit had indeed been waiting for him to ask this question. In reply, the spirit reached into the pocket of his trench coat and pulled out a hand-sized golden object that would make someone think of a gyroscope.

As the pharaoh first laid eyes on it, his mind instantly flew through theories on what it could be. A communication device of some kind? A weapon?

"Intriguing, isn't it?" said the spirit after a moment, pleased by the pharaoh's reaction. "And I suppose you're over there, wondering what crafty way I intend to use this to defeat you and plunge the world into darkness, am I right?"

The pharaoh didn't answer, his way of grudgingly telling the spirit he'd hit it dead on. "Well?" the pharaoh pressed after a short pause in which the spirit didn't continue. "Are you going to tell me then?"

To the pharaoh's surprise, the spirit laughed. "This bauble does absolutely nothing."

"I think you're lying," said the pharaoh, giving the spirit a suspicious look. "Why would you go to all the trouble to steal something that's worthless?"

"I didn't say it was worthless," said the spirit, clearly savoring the moment of keeping the pharaoh in the dark. "I said it doesn't _do_ anything. On the other hand, what this little trinket _represents_ is actually quite important."

"Represents?" the pharaoh repeated cautiously.

"If it will help you understand, think of it as a trophy," said the spirit, spinning the outer metal band of the gyroscope-like object idly with one long slim finger as he spoke. "You don't mark the value of a trophy by what it can do or how much you can get on the market for it... it depends on the accomplishment that one would have to have completed in order to receive it. In other words, this little, otherwise _worthless_ object represents a great accomplishment."

"A great accomplishment," the pharaoh muttered to himself, giving himself time to process this. It didn't take long to figure what the spirit was hinting at. "What have you done now?" he asked, scowling.

"Oh, it's not for me," said the spirit, smiling. "I'm really not the sentimental type. It's for anally of mine."

The pharaoh opened his mouth, then closed it again as it suddenly dawned on him what the spirit's use of the word 'ally' probably meant. He felt himself turning pale. "You don't mean..."

"But none of that really matters," said the spirit airily, pocketing the object once again.

"I won't let you take that," said the pharaoh coldly. "It's not yours and I'd be willing to wager it doesn't belong to your ally either."

The spirit's lip curled contemptuously. "And just how to plan to stop me?"

The pharaoh hesitated barely a second. There was only one way to deal with this particular individual, and it was an arena he knew every bit as well as the spirit. "Play a game with me," he said. "If I win, you'll give that thing to me."

The spirit gave the pharaoh a thoroughly condescending look, lip still upturned, and shook his head. "You must be a complete fool to stake so much for something that makes absolutely no difference to you whether we have it or not."

"It's a matter of honor," said the pharaoh, not backing down. "If it belongs to someone in this castle, I can't let you have it."

"How noble," sneered the spirit. "But I would hardly be willing to play a game over something so trivial. You should be ashamed to even suggest wasting my time in such a meaningless exercise." The spirit turned around and began to walk away. As he went, he added softly, "Oh, because your intelligence is such that you'll probably never figure it out on your own, there's something I wanted to mention about your new group of misfit friends and the room you will be going to during this excursion – "

"Trying to get inside my head as usual," said the pharaoh dismissively, cutting him off. "It's your words that are the waste of time. The only reason you're walking away right now is because you know you can't win."

The spirit had stopped and was surveying the pharaoh over his shoulder with his single eye, an expression on his face that could be described as almost curious. He did not look the least bit inclined to do what the pharaoh wanted despite the blatant attack on his pride, but he seemed to wonder what the pharaoh would say next.

However, crude a strategy as it was, the spirit _had_ stopped. Perhaps if the pharaoh just pushed the right buttons he could end things between himself and the spirit once and for all, right here, right now. He wasn't much good at such things, unlike the spirit or Seto Kaiba, but the spirit probably had a major chip on his shoulder somewhere, certain more obvious buttons even the pharaoh might not have trouble hitting upon.

"You're afraid," said pharaoh. "You're afraid of losing to me again. Like at Battle City. Like in Monster World."

However, the pharaoh didn't seem to be holding the spirit's attention after all and the white-haired teen began speaking in a bored tone once again. "I see. Relying on past victories for self-confidence, how very heroic and awe-inspiring. If that is all, I'll go ahead and say what I came here to say, and then I will go, shall I?"

"No," the pharaoh insisted. "I told you, your twisted words are meaningless. Either you'll say things to confuse me and eat away at my confidence, or you'll try to manipulate my actions, to lead me into a trap." The pharaoh shrugged. "You're a slick liar, I'll give you that, Spirit. So I'd just rather skip your speeches, if you don't mind. Instead, why don't you listen to what I have to say?"

The spirit did not react, either to laugh or glare.

The pharaoh found this more disturbing than any open scorn or hostility, but ignored the nervous lump trying to form itself in his stomach and continued, "What you don't seem to realize is, light always triumphs over darkness. The lights of life, the will to live and make dreams reality and protect the things important to us will always shine in this world, diminishing the darkness of despair and death. The world has ways of judging evil acts, selfishness, greed and cruelty – So if you not only commit evil, but actually deign to represent it, you are doomed to never emerge victorious. Even in victory you will be miserable, with that insatiable appetite for power." A small smirk spread across the pharaoh's face then. "But I'm starting to think you already know all that."

The spirit stared back for a second, his pale pointed face an unreadable mask. "Such splendid poetic prose," he said softly. "'Light always triumphs over darkness'... Tell me, pharaoh, was that a quote from a children's fairy tale?"

But then the smirk on his face faded. He turned his head back to face forward, his back still to the pharaoh. Strangely, the spirit lowered his head. The pharaoh noticed the black shoulders shaking ever so slightly, and a pale hand reached up and clutched his shirt as though his chest had suddenly started to hurt. Such strange behavior. Was it possible, wondered the pharaoh. Could Bakura's real personality be attempting to wrest control back from the parasite in his body?

No. That wasn't it. That wasn't it at all – When the spirit lifted his head again and turned around to face him, the pharaoh saw the look in that single eye, and he took an involuntary step back, violet eyes widening in surprise.

Gone was the sneering features and twisted pleasure from the spirit. He bared his teeth, his eye full of the most piercing hatred as he began to quietly speak again, this time with a different sort of tone. "'Evil will be judged'... You would dare say such a thing to me? I believe it is _you_ who doesn't realize. 'Evil' is ever such a subjective term. _Your_ side, your precious 'good' commits precisely the same kinds of acts _my_ side does for its benefit. The only difference is, your side would stamp out the lights of this world that _I_ hold sacred... which is why I've decided it's only fair to do the same thing to you. The philosophy of 'evil always gets what it deserves' could never be a reality, because whether you realize it or not, _everything_ is evil. What you call the 'lights of life' are really just _specs_ of _darkness_ in an already corrupt world."

The pharaoh didn't answer. He knew this expression that now marred the spirit's face. It was the same expression on that pale face he and Yugi had seen him on Christmas Day, when they had first come to Hogwarts. Such unbridled hatred. But for what? Because he was in the spirit's way? Before, at Dumbledore's funeral, the spirit had said some similar things to what he was saying now, but back then he spoke so calmly that the pharaoh had thought that the spirit was merely trying to trick him, to weave his way around in through the pharaoh's head so as to attempt to leave the pharaoh confused about his own beliefs. But now, the spirit had reacted to the pharaoh's words as he'd hoped, but not to the parts he would have expected. Could it be, that the spirit truly believed that no good existed in the world? It didn't seem too strange to believe, for perhaps that was the way with almost all who could be considered truly evil. Yet there was something that didn't quite make sense. Could hatred of self-righteousness, of what he perceived as hypocrisy, really be a motivating factor, beyond pure greed?

"I don't know what you're trying to say," said the pharaoh finally. "You are making no sense at all. When you say that we stamp out the lights that you hold sacred... Well, I'm having trouble imagining you holding _anything_ sacred, but what light has ever been destroyed by good, selfless intentions? The 'light' of your ambition to rule over this world?"

The spirit said nothing at first. His single eye was flat and cold. "Words..." he said eventually, his tone almost gentle, "...truly are a wasteful way to spend our time. But burn this into your mind, Pharaoh: there is no 'fate' or 'destiny' deciding what will happen to us. Truly, the one who wins defines what 'good' is. The victor is the 'good guy' and the loser is the 'bad guy.' So, as the saying goes, history really is written by those who win. That is is the true key to why good always wins. Not because of meaningless powers such as 'love' and 'faith' and 'hope.'"

Before the pharaoh could react, the spirit had plunged his fist into his trench coat and, extracting his wand, the spirit leveled it at the pharaoh and snarled, his calm face suddenly livid, wild, "Suffer for all eternity, you naïve fool... _Crucios!_"

The pharaoh dove to the floor as a blinding beam of blue light shot by right above him. Unfortunately, it seemed the spirit had not only learned the spells taught by the teachers, but had gone out of his way to learn the unforgivable curses as well.

"_Crucios_!" the spirit cried a second time and the pharaoh rolled to the side to avoid the beam of pure agony, pulling out his own wand in the process.

The pharaoh leaped to his feet, just as the spirit fired another curse. "Stupefy!" cried the pharaoh, the memory of being taught that shield charms didn't work with Unforgivable Curses flashing through his mind in an instant. If he could stun the spirit, then the spirit's curse would hopefully cease, even if it _did_ reach the pharaoh.

The blue light sped toward him, and the red light from his own wand shot toward the spirit when the two attacks, instead of flying past each other toward their intended targets, met in midair and connected. A blue line extended from the end of the spirit's wand, and a red line extended from the pharaoh's. Where the two met, there was a ball of electric energy, a swirling mass of blue and red.

The pharaoh saw that the swirling orb of energy was moving toward him and realized what would happen if it reached him. Focusing all his strength he tried desperately to force the orb back toward the spirit. But it was almost impossible; the spirit's will was so _strong_...

The spirit gritted his teeth, pale fingers tightening around his wand. No thoughts seemed to be passing through his mind as he focused everything on forcing that ball back to the pharaoh. There was only one thing in that hard crimson-brown eye, a desire: the desire to cause the pharaoh immeasurable pain for that perceived arrogant self-righteousness...

Though he was giving all he had, the pharaoh still had enough strength to think, _'Even for him... the spirit's acting strange.'_ There was no sadistic pleasure in that single eye. Fury, hate.

_/Spirit!-/_ Yugi cried from his soul room, consumed by a feeling of helplessness.

_/I'm – __**fine – **__/_ said the pharaoh, though even his telepathic communication sounded strained.

The pharaoh sensed how unhappy his partner was and wished he could tell him that he really didn't mind doing the fighting, but at that moment it probably would have been unwise to dwell on anything except keeping that blue and red orb of pain from reaching him.

_'I cannot let him bring harm to Yugi,' _realized the pharaoh. He needed to concentrate on what was _really_ at stake here. If he failed and that orb reached them, then Yugi would –

_'No.'_ Without any apparent warning, the pharaoh put on a sudden burst of strength. The bright red light from the tip of his wand glowed blindingly bright and the spirit's attack moved back a quarter of an inch.

It wasn't much of an advance, but it was enough to get the spirit's attention. The spirit raised his visible eyebrow, his look of hatred and anger replaced for a moment by that of moderate surprise.

The pharaoh glared back at the spirit, violet eyes hard with intense determination, glittering almost ruby in the afternoon light. He _could_ not, _would_ not, lose this battle. He would not let the spirit have his way and above all, he would not let anything happen to his partner.

The attack moved slowly, slowly toward the spirit of the Millennium Ring. The pharaoh was straining hard for every centimeter, his entire face taut from the strength of his concentration. But none of that mattered. He _would_ win, no matter what he had to do –

But it was not only that his own attack was more powerful than before – the spirit's was weakening. The spirit's sudden anger seemed to have begun to ebb and the orb was steadily moving back toward the spirit. The spirit had snapped out of that earlier trance of pure savage loathing.

The spirit continued his attack, but he no longer had the sheer will to stand up to the force of the pharaoh's. He closed his eye for a moment, a look of disgust crossing his face. Ah, these emotions... these _human_ emotions. He had made the decision to only use the powers he'd attained from his past self, and not get overly caught up in the hatred the self-proclaimed King of Thieves had had toward the pharaoh. Hatred, in moderation, could be a useful and wonderful thing, but if one let it become too overbearing, it could become as poisonous and detrimental as love. It clouded judgment, impeded one's sense of ambition – and when the object of that hatred was destroyed, it would only be more depressing than satisfying. The foolish thief he was back then would be one to fall into that trap... but not the spirit of the Millennium Ring. He had come too far for mistakes now.

The spirit opened his eye and made eye contact with the pharaoh. Even though the pharaoh was still straining to put out as much power as he could manange, the spirit saw the corners of the pharaoh's lips turn upward, and his ruby eyes glint with a hint of triumph.

The spirit's expression suddenly spread into a broad smirk and he jerked his wand back, successfully pulling it out of the attack. The red beam of light from the pharaoh's wand shot forward, directly toward the spirit.

_/You got through!-/_ cried Yugi through the link, his voice sounding relieved. _/No way he can use a shield charm that fast./_

But the pharaoh just stared with a frown on his face. The spirit had done that on purpose, he was sure, and the grin on the spirit's face suddenly made him uneasy in that split-second before impact. _'Why?'_ he wondered in confusion. _'Why would he surrender so easily?'_

The red beam of light was inches from making contact when, abruptly, the attack seemed to strike some wall, some invisible barrier and dispersed, leaving a fine red mist floating harmlessly all around him.

After several seconds of stunned speechlessness, the pharaoh finally found his voice. "But how?" he asked in disbelief, but his voice was duller than it would have been ordinarily. Because somehow, it didn't comes as a surprise.

"Such weak magic," the spirit drawled, his voice laced with not hatred or disgust, but careful patronization.

The pharaoh, still breathing hard from the battle, lifted his head to meet the eye of the spirit. The spirit had returned to normal. But then the pharaoh shrugged slightly, his own lip curling mockingly. "Strong words for someone who backed out just when he was about to lose. I never knew you to be such a coward – I'm disappointed."

"Ah, is that what you think?" asked the spirit, not looking the least bit ruffled by the insult. "Well, despite what you may believe, I didn't come here to fight you, especially in a such a crude, old-fashioned manner." He gave his wand a somewhat disdainful look. Stowing it back in his trench coat, he turned his attention back to the pharaoh, his smirk back. "Only I must admit I really find you contemptible. Sometimes I just can't hold myself back."

The pharaoh's expression didn't change. "The feeling is mutual."

The spirit turned around, but then tilted his head sideways to look at the pharaoh with his single eye.

The pharaoh froze as he saw the outline of a monstrous creature outlined in the little amount of light that found its way down from the high windows that lined the walls.

_/What...__** is**__ that?-/_ Yugi asked from his soul room, voice barely a whisper.

_/I don't know,-/_ answered the pharaoh, the first to recover from his initial shock. _/Some sort of duel monster is my guess./_

"You interrupted me before. Never mind, I won't give you any of the details now." The spirit spoke slowly and carefully, not taking his eye off the pharaoh. "However, just tell Harry and his little friends to be very... _thorough_ in his search upstairs. He may find one of those secret, important _somethings_ he's looking for."

"He already knows where it is," said the pharaoh, though suspecting he was not fully comprehending the spirit's cryptic message.

"Not the book, you Fool. There's more than one thing, and one of them is upstairs, in that room..." The spirit's smirk broadened as he added, "Though I suppose I shouldn't expect you to know anything about that. Poor pharaoh, always the last to know..."

The pharaoh gritted his teeth, glaring at the spirit. There it was: the spirit trying to manipulate him again. But at the same time, he felt a twinge of curiosity. What could Harry and the others be looking for? And if it was supposedly 'secret,' how would the spirit have found out about it?

The spirit's lower body suddenly vanished as the giant beast looming behind him gently grabbed him and lifted him a small ways off the ground. "We'll meet again soon..." said the spirit. His crimson eye glimmered with malice as he added, "In the meantime, keep that head of yours well-protected, would you? After all, I want it in good condition when I take it as a 'trophy' for myself." The sound of the spirit's coarse, chilling laughter filled the lengths of the corridor as the creature pulled him back through the wall and he vanished from sight.

_/What do you think that was all about?-/_ came Yugi's voice through the link. _/Other Self?-/_

But the pharaoh didn't reply, instead staring at the place where the spirit had been standing a few moments ago.

_'What is his game? What is he scheming?'_ However, no matter what it was, the pharaoh would stop whatever it was the spirit wanted. He would conquer the darkness, putting an end to all this danger that ravaged the lives of innocent people. Whether the spirit was working with Voldemort, or whether the spirit's true motives were what they seemed... He would win, and prove which side was truly good.

"_**Justice is in the name of the gods, Bakura."**_

Hmm... This is strange. I can't seem to think of anything to say. D: Oh well. XD

Thank you for reviewing! Please r and r. (:

(earlier vers. last edited 5/6/2007, edited new 9/8/11)


	32. The Room of Requirement

Another long chapter... Sorry for the extra wait on this, but it's here now. (: Since it's almost summer, I'm going to try and post chapters faster than every two weeks from now on, but I don't know how well I'll do. X3

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Yugioh belong to JK Rowling and Kazuki Takahashi respectively.

Chapter 32: The Room of Requirement

"Where could he have gone so fast?" Ron demanded in an annoyed tone as the threesome walked slowly down the staircase that led to the towers, back toward the area of the remains of Dumbledore's office.

The tense atmosphere of wondering if Voldemort might be here somewhere in the castle, combined with finding Dumbledore's office torn apart seemed to have worn off for the most part, though Harry's lips twitched a little and his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at the broken stone again. However, the fact that Voldemort hadn't popped out and attacked them yet gave them some confidence.

Still, they couldn't help but worry about Yugi. They'd gone up and searched the Gryffindor tower (which, strangely enough, still had the same password as when they'd left school in late May), but upon failing to find him there, moved on to Ravenclaw tower while they were at it, though they couldn't actually get inside. They checked a couple of the classrooms they knew Yugi had had classes on this floor, and finally, with great reluctance especially for Harry, they'd gone up to the Astronomy Tower. As they walked slowly up the marble staircase, the experience was made all the worse as Harry couldn't stop himself from imagining Voldemort standing at the top, the three of them arriving just in time to see him push Yugi off the tower with a killing curse, just as Snape had done to Dumbledore. However, when they got up, they saw that the astronomy tower was just as deserted as the other towers, so they'd decided to head back down to the seventh floor.

"I don't know," Harry replied, shaking his head. "We haven't checked Trelawney's room yet, have we? There's the Owlery too, but that's pretty far from here."

"Well, we didn't actually _see_ which way he went," Hermione pointed out. "And the Gryffindor common room's pretty far from here too, but that's where we checked first. For all we know, he might have gone to one of the other towers, but already gone back downstairs."

"Why would he do something like that?" Ron asked crankily. It was bad enough that they'd chased Yugi all the way up here, but he _really_ wouldn't be happy if he found out that Yugi had taken a round trip and they might have well just waited for him. "If he did do that," he muttered, "Next time he wants to come along, I'm voting no..."

Harry was busy taking a long look all around what they could see of the floor. He just couldn't get out of his head that Voldemort really was in the castle after all, and had their small, spiky-haired friend locked up somewhere. They shouldn't have come to the castle at all, it seemed so obvious now. At the very least, he shouldn't have allowed Yugi to come.

"Yugi?" came Hermione's uncertain voice and Harry turned around in time to see that it really was Yugi, coming up the stairs.

The group went over to him and Ron demanded in a put-out tone, "Don't tell me you ran all the way up here and then went back down. If you hadn't just gone running off on your own, you'd would've heard us saying how dangerous it is to be here."

Close up, Harry thought he noticed that Yugi didn't seem to be in any better mood than they were, the boy's forehead creased in hinted frustration and keeping his eyes on the floor. However, at Ron's last statement, he looked up. "Oh, I am sorry. I didn't mean to worry you." A faint smile suddenly played on his lips, as though he were enjoying some private joke. "Yes, I _do_ believe this place might actually be dangerous. However, I don't think we're in any danger right now."

"Something funny?" said Ron, raising his eyebrows, and Harry and Hermione looked at Yugi curiously.

Yugi didn't say anything for a moment, still smiling slightly. He didn't speak until he had wiped the smile from his face. "I wouldn't say 'funny' so much as 'ironic,' but... never mind. Please don't mind me."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, and Ron frowned a little, but none of them said anything.

"Never mind," Yugi repeated, waving his hand. "Well, while we're here, I guess we'd better go retrieve that book of yours, right Harry?" Without waiting for an answer, he started off down the hall, though he truthfully didn't have any idea where they were going.

"We decided that it wouldn't be a good idea," Hermione spoke up. "We only came in here to get you."

"Nonsense," said Yugi with such authority that made all three of them give him a strange look. Yugi was definitely acting different from normal. That confidence. "We might as well get the book, now that we're in the castle," he added. "There's nothing to worry about. If some unknown evil was lurking in the shadows – " his mouth curled into another small smile, that almost seemed like a smirk, "I'm sure it would have already struck by now."

"Er... okay..." Harry said, looking at Hermione and Ron. "I guess... I guess you're right," Though Harry actually felt quite the opposite. Still, they were already pretty close to the room, so he supposed it couldn't do much harm, and Yugi was so insistent. Yugi... he was acting strange. Was this just a side of the boy that Harry had never seen before? Yugi was much more self-assured than usual, so much so that it was almost a little intimidating. Harry moved ahead of Yugi and started down the hall toward the Room of Requirement, but couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of his eye.

As they'd just about reached the old tapestry with the three trolls, Harry had a sudden thought that made him stop so quickly that Ron almost ran into him.

Yugi stopped and observed the tapestry with a sort of detached interest while Hermione asked, "Harry? What's wrong?" Harry glanced at Hermione, then at Yugi. Was it possible that Yugi could have been put under the Imperius Curse? If so, they were certainly walking right into a trap. Harry tried to communicate this with his eyes alone, but as his eyes moved back to Yugi, who was looking the trolls up and down, realized it was too risky to put it forward with Yugi right there, and decided not to say anything just yet.

"Nothing. C'mon, let's go."

"What are we doing?" Yugi asked finally, turning back to Harry as he saw that they weren't going on from here.

"You'll see" was all Harry said and he began to pace back and forth in front of the empty wall across from the tapestry.

Harry had a moment of doubt in telling Yugi about the Room of Requirement, but he figured they'd already come too far to start trying to hide things now. Besides, Malfoy along with the whole of Hogwarts staff already knew about the room, so it wasn't that much of secret anymore anyway. And if he _was_ under the curse, he would have to know about it already, from his master.

The pharaoh watched Harry curiously as the former Gryffindor Quidditch captain walked for a little ways, then stopped and turned around to walk a little ways the other way. Three times he did this and the pharaoh was mystified until he looked back to the wall and saw that there was what looked like a door in what had been bare wall a moment before.

"What is this?" asked the pharaoh, faintly impressed.

"It's called the 'Room of Requirement'," Hermione explained. "It doesn't appear unless someone has need of something and it will transform itself to fit those needs. Like if you were looking for a supply closet with cleaning supplies..."

"...Or a classroom for practicing DADA in secret," Ron added.

"The room changes to fit what the person wants?" asked the pharaoh. "With what limitations?"

"None to speak of," Harry said, deciding not to go into details about his failure to find out what Malfoy was up to by thinking 'I need to find out what Malfoy is doing' over and over again.

Just as Harry's fingers brushed against the doorknob, Hermione asked, "Exactly what kind of room did you change it into to hide the book, Harry?"

Harry just shook his head in reply, and pulled the door open. Without hesitation, he strolled on in.

Taking that to mean 'it'll be better just to show you' the three followed him and, as they stepped inside, Hermione sucked in her breath while Ron whispered, "Whoa..." Even the pharaoh raised his eyebrows a little in amazement.

The room wasn't just big – it was _huge_. Calling it a small city rather than a room wouldn't have been that much of an exaggeration. A cluttered, deserted city. Staring with wide eyes at the labyrinth of alleyways lined with everything from old wooden cupboards to shattered bottles of butterbeer, Ron could not resist the urge to ask, "Harry, are you really sure you'll be able to find your book in all this?"

"Yeah," said Harry, looking a little insulted. "I made sure I'd remember where I put it." He glanced over his shoulder at the door to the room, then allowed his eyes to dart all around them as though he were expecting an ambush. Then he turned and he scrambled up a particularly large pile of junk, coming to stand on an old dresser that had been turned on its side. He scanned the giant maze of debris and, after a moment, spotted what he was looking for.

He got back down and said, "C'mon, this way."

The pharaoh, who'd also been scanning the room as he looked for anything unusual that might be what the spirit had been referring to earlier, reluctantly followed after the others.

"Your book is certainly well hidden," said the pharaoh conversationally as Harry led them down a specific path through and around all the various pieces of furniture and rubble. "But I have to ask, was all this really necessary?"

"Yes," Harry said, but didn't elaborate and the pharaoh didn't press him. The truth was, he'd hidden the book here right after the episode where he'd nearly sent Draco to an early grave and Snape had been on the verge of confiscating it. When he'd thought, 'I need a place to hide this book,' this was the room that the had appeared.

Snape. The mere thought of the name made Harry's blood boil. Harry wondered vaguely what he would do with the book once he found it. Harry had told Hermione that he wanted to find a way to use the book against Snape somehow, but as he thought about it, using the book again at all made him feel a little ill. He wondered for the first time if Voldemort wasn't in the castle after all, but rather had sent one of his servants in his stead. Perhaps Snape was here in the castle, right now.

Harry glanced over his shoulder again.

There was a short silence before Ron spoke up, "Hey Harry, look at some of this stuff. The house elves used this as a rubbish closet, right? This must be all that stuff, lying around here."

"Yeah, I reckon so," Harry said, but he was only half-listening.

"House elf?" the pharaoh questioned, not caring much himself, but relenting to his other's curiosity.

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione piped up first.

"They're like slaves," she said with conviction. "They're bound to serve wizards for their whole lives without a choice."

"Well, that's unfortunate," said the pharaoh, less affected by this information than Hermione would have liked him to be. However, he was unable to keep the smile off his face as he sensed his partner's genuine concern.

Frowning at his apathetic reaction, she went on, "They work hard all the time without pay and all a house elf has to wear is a pillowcase. They don't even get any recognition for their work; I mean, there are over a hundred at Hogwarts and we never even see them or know they're there. Actually, I started this organization – "

"Spew," Ron interjected.

Hermione glared at Ron. "Not 'spew', it's S.P.E.W.-"

The two continued to bicker and Harry could not suppress a slight smile. Hearing Ron and Hermione arguing like this, things almost felt normal – the way they had felt before the end of sixth year that was.

The pharaoh, deciding not to get involved, fell back behind Hermione and Ron, and went back to scanning the piles upon piles, rows upon rows of all the various things lining their path. Would what the spirit had been talking about stick out from everything else, or was it hidden in a place they could never hope to find in the sheer bulk of all this clutter? Or perhaps the spirit had just been completely lying to throw him off.

Harry finally came to a stop and had to clear his throat loudly to get the attention of his two friends, who were still arguing heatedly about house elves.

"It should be here I'm remembering right," he said, looking at the particularly large pile that included a large dusty cupboard and a bunch of rusty old folding tables.

As Harry knelt down and opened the cupboard, the pharaoh's busied himself with continuing to look around. His gaze was drawn to a rather distinctive-looking statue and was amused to see that someone had set a dirty wig on its head along with a rusty old tiara.

"Here it is," said Harry, emerging from the cupboard, clutching an old book entitled _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"Well, let's go then," said Ron.

"Yes, besides, it's getting rather late," Hermione put in. "Yugi?"

The pharaoh, hesitated, shooting another glance out over the endless mountains of debris. They'd never find one little thing in all this, but he still wanted to find out what the spirit had meant. But then, if it was indeed a trap after all, maybe it was just as well.

"All right..." he relented, starting to follow. There wasn't any point in wasting anymore time here, especially if the spirit's goal was simply to stall for time.

The pharaoh stopped suddenly as he felt a warm glow from within his pocket. Without thinking, he reached inside and felt the warmth of the Millennium Necklace, the necklace Ishizu had given him all the way back in Battle City. It had only ever glowed once before, when Jonouchi had been in a coma after his fight with Marik, showing him the duel that they would someday have.

The pharaoh stopped and turned around, gazing at the statue of the old warlock uncharacteristically wearing the wig and tiara.

_'**That**...?'_

The pharaoh stared at the filthy, tarnished piece of metal sitting upon the head of the old ugly warlock statue in disbelief. Was that the secret, important object that Harry was supposedly looking for? It was just another piece of junk. Plus, if it was, why wouldn't Harry have noticed it?

"Yugi? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"We already got what we came for," said Ron, gesturing at the textbook Harry was holding.

"Harry," said the pharaoh, ignoring Hermione and Ron's entirely. "That tiara over there – The one on the statue..." He didn't continue, hoping that his simply pointing it out would spark something in Harry.

"The tiara?" said Harry absently, edging back toward the door as he looked at the piles of debris all around him, imagining all the places Death Eaters could hide in order to sneak up and capture unsuspecting young wizards wandering around the junkyard. "What about it?"

"Well, doesn't it look a little..." the pharaoh pressed a little further. He didn't want to spell it out.

Harry, misinterpreting what the pharaoh was about to say, shrugged a little and replied, "Oh yeah, well. I guess it does look funny." He gave a bit of a smile despite his nerves "It wasn't really up there to begin with. I put it there so I'd remember where I hid the book."

A little mystified, the pharaoh wondered if perhaps the spirit had been wrong and there really wasn't anything up here Harry was looking for. So then what had that brief vision containing that tiara been trying to tell him? Unless, perhaps, for whatever reason Harry and the others didn't know the exact form of what they sought.

"Come on, Yugi," said Harry, trying not to sound impatient.

However, not quite ready to give up, the pharaoh backed up to the statue and reached up, slipping the tiara up over the warlocks head and bringing it down to look at it in his hands.

The tiara was like any other, gold and silver with some little dull jewels decorating the edges. A little silver bird – perhaps a crow or raven – had been engraved on one side on the inside of the band, but it was so tiny it was hardly visible. There was really nothing unusual about the object, except for the reddish brown stains where the tiara had begun to rust along the sides. It had probably once been breath-taking and beautiful, but now it was old and worn. The pharaoh turned it over and over to get a look at it from all angles, but still failed to find anything striking.

"Yugi," said Ron, unlike Harry not bothering to hide his impatience. "Stop messing around with that old thing and let's go already."

"Yugi?" said Hermione hesitantly. "What is it?"

Again, the pharaoh made no answer. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew his wand. "_Relashio!_" he hissed and a jet of sparks shot from his wand at the tiara. Either he'd damage the little useless sheet of metal and split it into several pieces, or it wouldn't take to being attacked too nicely.

Unfortunately, the answer turned out to be choice 'b.' Just before the attack made contact in the short distance it traveled, an invisible shield deflected the sparks in all directions and the Pharaoh was forced to cover his face to keep them from hitting his vulnerable eyes. So this was no ordinary tiara after all. Ah well, the spirit hadn't been lying then.

However, the tiara appeared to become totally lifeless once more, and the Pharaoh did not let go of it. When the sparks had finished deflecting, he lowered his arm to look at the tiara again. Apparently just a straight forward attack was useless, he mused to himself, at least if he wanted to find out the tiara's true purpose and power, if it had any power at all. Seeing as how it had to do with the spirit, the pharaoh had rather been expecting some sort of nasty counterattack in addition to the reflection. Perhaps it was not an evil artifact at all; it was only protecting itself.

Then he smelled the acrid burning of flesh. The smell reach his nose before he felt it and the second he did he let out a cry as black smoke that had once been skin on his hands billowed up into the air, instinctively dropping the white hot metal. It hit the hard ground with a clang that rebounded off the walls in the quiet of the large room.

Rubbing his stinging hands, he gave the deceptively harmless-looking tiara lying on the ground a cold look as though the tiara ought to have been terrified for marking him as its enemy.

"Yugi!" Hermione cried in concern and, having forgotten the three sixth years' presence temporarily, the pharaoh glanced back at her with a bit of a dazed, startled look on his face. "What happened?" she asked in concern.

Yugi muttered something inaudible, though Harry thought he caught the word 'burned', before the boy turned back to stare at the tiara again.

"Let's go, Yugi," said Harry again. "We don't know what any of this stuff is, so it isn't very safe..."

"Maybe that tiara's cursed," Ron suggested and Hermione's eyes widened as a thought suddenly hit her with the force of a speeding bludger.

"If it is, you sure got off easy, Yugi," said Harry, thinking of Katie Bell. "C'mon... Better leave it alone."

Ignoring Harry's warning, the pharaoh began to cautiously inch toward the tiara once again. "Something dangerous like this shouldn't just be left lying around," he said simply.

"Harry!" Hermione whispered, looking at Harry with wide eyes. "You don't think _that_ tiara could be – ?"

Harry looked stricken for a moment. But not long after, he relaxed and shook his head. "I doubt it, Hermione," he said in a low voice to keep Yugi from hearing. "Dumbledore said that Voldemort goes for flashy things – and besides, Yugi would probably be dead already if itwas." If Voldemort had put an Imperius curse on the boy like Harry had theorized, then there would be no reason for Yugi to lead them to a Horcrux, and it would just be too coincidental if Yugi was just acting on his own.

"But wasn't it Dumbledore that said Voldemort didn't want his horcruxes to kill right away, so that he could find out who was hunting them down?" Hermione said. When Harry didn't look convinced, she went on, "It probably wasn't old and dirty when he first put it here thirty years ago, would it? He wanted something from Rowena Ravenclaw – And what better place to hide it than in a room he probably discovered that no one else knew about?"

Harry paled slightly. Voldemort was obsessed with symbolism and irony, liking places that had held importance to him and his evil accomplishments at some point in his life. So what if Hermione was right? With his ingenuity and skill, Lord Voldemort could have discovered the room and used it for any number of things that held importance to him. A room that he knew only _he_ had discovered...

Harry couldn't take the chance if they were right. Wheeling around he shouted at Yugi, whose hand was mere inches away from the tiara, "No stop, don't touch – "

But it was too late, the pharaoh, cringing a little at the prospect of being burned again, closed his hand around the thin sheet of metal. It was surprisingly cool however and he relaxed slightly. He held it in his hand once again and took a good look at it, turning it around to look at the inside. He was sure that the tiara had tried to unleash something on him the first time the pharaoh had tried attacking it, but he couldn't figure out what. It was something deadly and perhaps if he hadn't had the protection of the Millennium Puzzle –

He noticed that the tiny image of the raven was faintly glowing orange. It was when he leaned down slightly to get a better look, curious, that it sprang. It happened so quickly, the next thing the pharaoh knew the tiara was digging through his sleeve into the skin of his arm. He'd lifted his arm out of pure instinct, and it was lucky he did or the tiara would be digging into his forehead – the object's intended target. He could feel thoughts and memories emanating off the rusting metal, all sorts of things he'd never seen or heard before. But they were all broken and jagged, melded together. It was hard to know where one ended and the other began, but there was enough to realize that if the metal had touched his forehead, the overload of information probably would have made him go insane.

He struggled against the tiara for a moment before, with one final effort, he was finally able to throw it off and it went flying back away from him. But, before it hit the floor, it miraculously righted itself in midair and stopped to float a few inches above the ground, levitating slowly until it was at about chest-height.

Harry and the others ran up to stand next to Yugi, all staring at the angry tiara.

_'No doubt about it,'_ thought Harry. He'd officially stumbled across his very first horcrux since Dumbledore had died, the thing that Voldemort stored a piece of his soul in. Before, it had been easy to say, "I'll find a way to destroy them when I find them" but now, when he was faced with something that had been powerful enough to nearly kill Dumbledore himself –

"Harry," Hermione whispered making eye contact with him and Harry nodded. While he knew better than anyone how important destroying the horcruxes was, right now he was more concerned with getting Yugi out alive. He didn't need more people than necessary putting themselves in danger over this.

"Yugi," Harry said, putting his hand on Yugi's shoulder in an attempt to calm the tense boy down. Amazingly, the boy looked like he was concentrating hard, ready to fight. "Let's leave, now," Harry went on. "You don't know what power a cursed object like that has... It could kill you."

"Stand back" was Yugi's only answer. He didn't take his eyes off the tiara, still hovering just above the ground a little ways away. He had a feeling that it wasn't just some cursed artifact. He could _sense_ the malevolent aura surrounding the tiara, but couldn't get a grasp on what it was.

Before he had much time to think about it, the tiara attacked again and the pharaoh dove to one side, pushing Harry out of the way while he was at it. The cursed tiara zoomed over the two on the ground before it slowed to a stop and turned around.

A floating tiara, like something out of a cheap horror film. Harry might have found it funny if he didn't know how serious it was.

"Let's get out of here, Yugi," said Harry, hoping Yugi would listen this time, but he saw that it was no good.

The boy was on his feet again, staring down the scrap of rusting metal. "You go," he said. "Don't worry about me."

If Harry had ever doubted that Yugi was supposed to be in Gryffindor, he sure didn't now and wondered briefly if Yugi was just an idiot. It was one thing to be brave, but what part of "you could die" didn't he understand?

The tiara swooped down on them again and the two of them leaped out of the way. This time however, the tiara turned violently, the wind created by the force of its turn sending debris flying, and it sped toward Yugi, its once-dull jewels gleaming dangerously.

"Yugi!" Hermione cried and Harry watched in horror as the tiara shone with a dark light as it prepared to unleash every curse it possessed on Yugi's frozen form. It would surely kill him –

Before the pharaoh knew what was happening, the tiara struck him, slicing a long, thin cut along the length of his left arm before shooting on past.

A spasm shot through his body and he wobbled, a writhing pain coursing through him from the shallow wound. He could feel it draining his strength, his life away. It was as though the tiara had been dipped in some kind of poison and the instantly lethargy stealing through was enough to make the pharaoh wonder if they really were going to die after all. But then suddenly a second pulse coursed through his body, this time from his Millennium Puzzle. The feeling of his life draining away from him slowed, then stopped.

Exhausted, the pharaoh turned to see that the tiara had turned around once more, ready to strike him again. There was one moment, where the thing seemed to be almost staring him down, it's dull jewels like broken, mismatched eyes, before it suddenly shot toward him and the pharaoh's hand instinctively few to his belt pack, where he kept his deck.

"_Yugi!_" Harry yelled desperately, knowing that it was too late.

No choice now, if he and his partner wanted to make it out alive. Seconds before the glowing tiara made contact with him a second time, to complete the infliction of the powerful curses on his weakened body, he used his last bit of strength to roar in a hoarse, but commanding tone, "I call the guardian of the palace, OBELISK, THE TORMENTOR!"

A blinding flash of light filled the room as a earthshaking beam of energy struck the spot directly in front of Yugi and Harry had to cover his eyes. The speeding tiara was suddenly thrown back, as though it had hit an invisible wall.

In an instant though the light had faded and Harry pulled his hand away from his eyes. When he saw what had now replaced the pillar of light, his jaw literally dropped.

A giant blue monster towered above them. Despite the vastness of the room, the enormous form of the monster did not fit, the spikes of its head jutting up through the ceiling, sending dust and debris falling down on them from above.

Yugi stood just behind one of the monstrous feet of the creature, clutching his side and gasping for breath. Summoning such a monster took a great deal of energy to do at any time, but combined with the effects of the cursed tiara, he felt completely spent.

His eyes began to mist over and he swayed forward slightly as though on the verge of losing consciousness. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to lift his drooping head back up. Not yet.

"Attack," he said, in the barest rasp of a whisper.

The giant monster angled its head downward to look at the little, insignificant tiara far below and Harry thought he saw the tiara draw back a little. Then, without a single hesitation, the monster drew back one mighty fist and unleashed its power in one fatal attack.

The once formidable tiara gave a shudder, then silently shattered into a thousand pieces that scattered into dust.

The pharaoh watched the destruction of the tiara through hazy vision and he found himself thinking, _'Should've known... The spirit was just trying to get me... get me killed... after all...' _

Then, letting out one last, tremulous breath, everything went black as he passed out and the giant blue god faded from sight.

"_**Those who trespass in others' souls will always get burned in the end."**_

Hm... I think this chapter came out fairly well, despite the distinct lack of Yami Bakura. D: Though I feel like the millennium necklace part would have gone better if I'd mentioned he had it before, in one of the previous chapters. But I guess it's a little late to think about setting up plot now. XD Maybe Yami Bakura mentioned something in chapter one... Oh well.

Thank you for all the reviews last chapter! (: Please r and r.

(first version last edited 5/28/2007, re-edited 9/9/11)


	33. Attack on the Tomb Keepers

Sorry, I know this is late; I meant to post this last weekend, but in the end, it being the first weekend of being out of school, I was too lazy. XD And then when I had my wisdom teeth removed on Tuesday, I just moped around for the rest of the week watching animes...

This chapter's... a bit of a switch from what's happening in the others, but I hope it came out okay.

**-33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33 -33**

Disclaimer: Yugioh and Harry Potter belong Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively, not to me. I don't own the quotes at the end either.

'Jonouchi' is Joey's Japanese name.  
'Rishid' is Odion's Japanese name, at least as far as I know. (I forgot about this until the last minute and had to use the find and replace method; D: I was tempted to leave it as 'Odion,' but I've come this far with Japanese names...)

Chapter 33: Attack on the Tomb Keepers

The hot sun beat down from above as wind whistled through the city, blowing the sand that lined the streets aimlessly about. The evening sunlight streamed in through the windows of all the high rise business and apartment buildings of Cairo, Egypt.

One teenage boy in particular stood at his apartment window, praying softly in Arabic.

"Malik?"

The boy stopped praying and turned to look over his shoulder at his sister who was sitting on the couch, upholstered with a rich, light tan material, reading a book.

"Sorry if I interrupted you," she said, looking apologetic. "Are you done with your prayers yet, Brother?"

"That's all right, Ishizu," said Malik, smiling generously. "I was done saying the important things."

Ishizu smiled slightly back before looking back down at her book. After Battle City, Malik had vowed to change from the selfish, bitter self he'd been since the day of their father's death. It would be a stretch to call him an angel now, but he seemed so much happier, glad to be living with his sister and stepbrother.

Malik took one last glance out the window at the crimson evening sky before he came over to sit on a cushion next to Ishizu and leaned back casually, resting his head against his hands.

"What book are you reading?" he asked conversationally, glancing down.

"Ah..." said Ishizu, turning the book so they could see the cover, but it wasn't something about archeology or a title Malik recognized so he shrugged slightly, losing interest.

Ishizu sighed and, still looking at the book rather than making eye contact, said, "Malik... I have a bad feeling."

"About what?" said Malik in a distracted tone as he got up, about ready to go into the kitchen to check and see how close Rishid was to finishing their dinner.

Ishizu shut her book and set it on the small table by the couch's armrest, next to the lamp. "I don't know. I just can't help but wonder if the the king is all right."

"Why?" Malik asked, stopping. "What would make you start wondering about that?"

"Well," said Ishizu slowly, turning away to look at the orange sunlight coming through the window. "I found a message on our answering machine earlier today from Jonouchi, saying that Yugi has acted strangely."

"Strange?"

"Yes," Ishizu replied. "Apparently he went off to a boarding school around the winter holidays without telling anyone. He wrote a letter to them later, informing them where he was and not to worry, but he didn't come back until summer."

"Hmm," said Malik thoughtfully. "That does seem unheard of for Yugi, considering he's normally joined to all his friends at the hip. But I don't know if it's something to get all worked up about. Maybe Yugi just decided he wanted to make some new friends and he was afraid his friends would try to stop him if he told them about it beforehand. I don't see why Yugi shouldn't be able to take a year off."

Ishizu knitted her eyebrows a little at Malik's inference that Yugi's friends were people that he needed to "take time off from." She hesitated. "I don't know. He also said that Yugi left again as soon as he came back."

Malik was thoughtful again, putting a finger to his lip. "Well, it was summer when he came back, so maybe he wasn't given that long of a vacation. The school year starts in the spring in Japan, so he would have probably already been into a second school year at the boarding school. Where is it exactly anyway?"

"I don't know," said Ishizu. "Jonouchi didn't say."

"Well, I don't know if it's something we need to worry about or not, but I suppose you should call him back. Did Jonouchi say why he was calling _us _particularly? Just wanted us to be informed because we got to know them so well in Battle City, I suppose."

Ishizu smiled slightly. "No, he was wanting to know if we knew anything. Since apparently we're the ones who know the most about 'all that weird magic stuff like that.'"

"Why am I not surprised?" said Malik, shaking his head, but couldn't help a small grin. "Well, give me his number, and I'll call him to tell him we don't know any more than he does this time."

"Well," said Ishizu hesitantly. "Yes, I would have already called him myself, but... he didn't leave his number."

Malik stopped on his way to the phone in the kitchen. He didn't say anything for a moment. "...The moron." It was possible the teenage knucklehead had just assumed the Ishtars would have caller ID, but somehow Malik doubted whether Yugi's best friend would be able to think that far ahead.

Just then, there came a knock at the door and Malik turned.

"I'll get it," he volunteered. "Though it's probably some suits wanting to talk to you again. Being the 'Supreme General of Antiquities' and all..."

Ishizu hoped not and resisted the urge to do something as undignified as wrinkle her nose. "I guess I'd better mentally prepare myself just in case." She took a deep breath, and then picked her book back up again, pretending to be busy reading.

Grinning a little back at her, Malik opened the door.

"May I help – " He stopped, staring. For a fraction of a moment, he thought there were two of his old members of the ghouls standing in the doorway, but on closer inspection he saw that they couldn't possibly be. For one thing, they didn't have the chains hanging from the fabric or the eye of Horus on the hood that marked the costumes worn by his followers. Plus, Malik had never known his ghouls to wear white masks.

Thinking they must be some kind of cult wanting to get them to join (or perchance, very, very early trick-or-treaters from the States), Malik spoke again, though this time with a edge of forced politeness in his voice, "...May I help you?"

Instead of answering, the cloak spouted off a bunch of words in a language Malik didn't understand. He thought it sounded like English but, never having studied the language before himself, he couldn't be sure.

"Sorry," he said, careful to make his voice a little louder than normal and to speak slowly. "I do not know – what you are – saying." He started to close the door. "Good-bye."

But evidently the cloaks had some nerve, for one stepped forward and put his foot in the door.

Malik glanced down the hallway of the apartment complex, hoping that one of his neighbors was watching and would call the police on these weirdos, but to his disappointment, he didn't see anyone. He redirected his attention back to the cloaks and said, unable to keep the impatience out of his tone, "Excuse me, but would you please – ?" Instead of finishing and waiting for the cloak to put his foot back where it belonged, he grabbed a handful of cloth and shoved the cloak backward, just enough to stop his impeding the door. But, unfortunately, the other cloak quickly jumped forward and pushed Malik back into his apartment before he had time to do anything. Taking full advantage of their temporary victory, they stepped over the threshold and into the apartment, the door swinging halfway closed behind them.

Malik glared furiously at the two strangers, cursing them under his breath. Of all the nerve – he'd make them sorry.

"What's going on?"

Malik turned to see that Ishizu had stood up from the couch and set her book back down on the stand again.

"Go call the police," he ordered. "We have a couple of foreign trespassers – "

Ishizu glanced at the cloaks, then back at Malik and without saying anything, started toward the kitchen. She hesitated as one of the cloaks spoke up, using English again. Malik remembered that Ishizu, as an important figure in the Egyptian government, could speak English.

"Do you know who these people are?" she asked quietly, frowning and not taking her eyes off the cloaks.

"No, why would I?" Malik asked, a little insulted. "What are they saying?"

"They seem to want you to go with them, but they haven't said why," she answered, her frown deepening.

"So ask them."

Ishizu spoke in English to the cloaks, but in reply they stepped forward, using their imposing forms to loom over them.

"I don't think they want to say," said Ishizu to Malik.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you. I think I could figure that out on my own, Sis." He moved so that he was standing protectively in front of Ishizu and glared challengingly at the cultists. _'Make me,'_ he thought. They thought they were so important – Didn't they know who he was?

Cults were infamous for convincing people to join so that they would give their possessions and souls to their leaders. However, most cults wouldn't be this forceful in trying to make someone to join. For one thing, it would leave a bad impressions and scare off possible members before the cult could get their hooks in. Joining cults was voluntary, because acting nice was a better way for them to get what they wanted.

But perhaps they weren't from a cult at all, and it was actually some kind of criminal organization. It was strange they would just come to the Ishtar's front door, especially when they didn't keep money or other any other real valuable things around the apartment. Malik hoped that this didn't have anything to do with the fact that they used to be tomb keepers, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wondered why he would think that. No one should know about that except the pharaoh and his friends, and anyone else directly involved.

The cloak started speaking again.

"They say if you don't come willingly, they'll have to use force," Ishizu translated, looking remarkably calm, though Malik could see that a bead of sweat had broken out on her brow. He had a feeling she was thinking about the phone call from Jonouchi, though he couldn't imagine what the pharaoh's behavior would have to do with this situation. But then, Ishizu was a bigger believer in fate than Malik ever was. As far as he was concerned, they just happened to be the unlucky ones who had to deal with these henchmen of some corrupt Arabian mob boss. But it was strange they only wanted _him_ to go with them. If they were hoping to get ransom money, then they'd be better off taking an important person like Ishizu, not her little brother.

"Oh, I'm scared now," he said sarcastically, and Ishizu started to look worried.

"Don't do anything to provoke them, Brother," she warned, but Malik wasn't listening.

Turning to the cloaks, he ordered loudly, "Get out." He pointed toward the door to make sure they understood. "Get out, or we'll call the police."

The two cloaks glanced at each other, then proceeded to pull long wooden sticks out of their pockets.

For a moment, thinking they were going to pull out guns, Malik tensed, but he soon relaxed as he laid eyes of on the sticks of the wood. Some weapons.

"Get out," he repeated, speaking slowly and clearly again, but the the cloaks didn't listen.

Neither spoke as one of them pointed his stick at Malik, then slowly redirected it at the couch behind them.

"Malik," Ishizu whispered, sounding a little frantic. "Watch out. I have this feeling – "

"What is it, Ishizu?" Malik demanded impatiently, at the moment not really all that concerned with Ishizu's vague feelings. He'd just started to glance back at her, but at that moment the cloak shouted a word and Malik spun around just in time to see a spark of light shoot from the end of the stick. The couch behind them erupted in flames.

Ishizu let out a cry, jumping away from the couch toward Malik, and grabbing his arm as he just stared in shock. He slowly redirected his attention back to the cloaks and saw that they had their sticks pointed at him.

He swallowed, for the first time realizing the full seriousness of the situation. He had no idea who these guys were, but one thing was for sure, the police wouldn't do them one jot of good against people with these kind of powers. If only he had his Millennium Rod, but they were completely helpless now, at the mercy of these two strangers. Where could they have gotten hold of magic sticks like those – Or was it just a trick? The fire of the burning couch definitely seemed real enough. Were they after the tomb keeper's secret they had been kept for thousands of years?

"Who... Who are you?" Malik asked, his mouth dry.

But, as he'd expected, they didn't answer and instead raised their death sticks a little higher. Except for the crackling of the blazing fire behind them devouring the couch, the room was silent and he could see the bright flames reflected off the polished wood of the sticks. Even though their faces were obscured by their white masks, Malik could imagine the strangers smirking in triumph.

Malik ground his teeth, but reluctantly circled around toward the door as they gestured with their sticks for him to do so. He stood with his back to the door, glaring at the two cloaks who now stood in the middle of the room. He couldn't just give himself up, but he couldn't deny that those sticks, whatever they were, were dangerous.

But then, he stopped for a moment in surprise, his lavender eyes flickering to a spot just over the cloaks' shoulders for a fraction of a second, before returning to stare back at their white masks. Malik's expression changed to one of submissiveness and he bowed his head in a defeated sort of way. His tight fists uncurled and, with hands in the air, he backed toward the door, pushing it wide open.

The cloak nodded as though to say, "I knew you'd see it our way."

The two walked toward him, ready to escort Malik away, for whatever strange purpose they had in store. One of them suddenly turned and pointed his stick at Ishizu but, unfortunately for him, this caused him to lay eyes on the person looming up behind him.

Malik grinned at the second cloak who hadn't yet seen anything wrong, but, before the cloak could finish jerking his stick up in wary shock, Malik reached forward and yanked it out of his grip just as Rishid tackled the first cloak from behind. Malik jumped away from the three. Wasting no time, he put both hands on the stick and snapped it in two with his foot. He attempted to completely separate the frayed, stringy substance still connecting the two pieces of wood, but didn't have time as the cloak he'd pushed recovered and came after him.

Meanwhile, the other cloak, who Rishid was currently restraining, was attempting to reach up to point the stick of wood at his captor, but due to the way Rishid was holding the man's arms, he couldn't quite manage it. Angrily waggling his stick back and forth the small amount he could, he shouted something and Malik flinched as a red light from the cloak's stick tore a gaping hole in the door behind him.

Rishid was so caught off guard that he loosened his hold on the cloak, but he was forced to forget about being surprised for the moment as he was awakened to the situation by an elbow jab to the chest. Rishid quickly reaffirmed his grip before the cloak could use his captor's distraction to squirm away and bring his stick around into a better firing position.

Malik struggled to get the cloak holding him off his back. He tossed the now broken stick away so that he'd have use of both hands and, swiveling his upper body enough to see properly, delivered the cloak a good punch in the jaw that broke his white mask, causing part of it to crumble and fall off.

The cloak staggered backward and fell down, clutching his bloody mouth. As he was injured and his stick was broken, Malik quickly forgot him as he rushed to Rishid's aid. Taking one of the cloak's struggling arms, Malik helped Rishid finally grab the stick away from the struggling cloak. Rishid and Malik made eye contact and, without a word, Rishid turned his body as much as he could while still holding the cloak's arm and threw the stick into the fire of the burning couch.

The cloak cried out in anger and struggled harder than ever, but he couldn't get away from Malik and Rishid's combined efforts.

The other cloak, who was still on the floor clutching his jaw, had started to edge toward the door and Malik called to Ishizu, "Get the other guy before he gets away – Knock him out!"

Ishizu looked startled to be addressed and glanced at the other cloak before looking back at Malik. "With what?" she asked.

"I don't know!" Malik cried, preoccupied with keeping from being hit by the cloak's flailing arms. "Use that lamp for all I care – just don't let him get away."

The cloak they were subduing was beginning to slow down now as he tired from the struggle.

"I like that lamp – " Ishizu muttered, but went for it anyway.

"Master Malik – Miss Ishizu!" Rishid called out warningly and as Malik looked at the cloak he'd punched again, he saw that he hadn't been heading for the door at all, but retrieving the broken stick Malik had thrown aside. He had taken the two pieces and, holding the two pieces of wood together so that the stick looked almost whole again, pointed them straight at Malik. Though Malik couldn't see his face behind the mask, he could almost feel the man's surging fury.

"_Avada Kedavra_!" the man cried.

A green light erupted from the stick. But whatever it was did not come out the tip of the stick as it had before; instead, the light exploded out the sides where the stick had been broken and reverberated back through the wrong end of the stick, striking the man in the chest. He was sent flying backward by the force of his own attack and his body struck against the bookcase behind him with a loud thud.

The case wobbled dangerously and books fell around the man's head, but he didn't react. There was a moment of complete and total silence where they all stared at the man, lying still where he had fallen. Even their cloaked captive was frozen.

Suddenly, the cloak who they'd been holding onto broke free from the two shocked Ishtars and, letting out a cry of terror, the cloak high-tailed it out of the apartment. Nobody bothered to pursue him.

Malik walked slowly over to the unmoving form of the cloaked man lying on the floor and knelt down next to him. His hand trembling slightly, Malik removed what remained of the white skull mask and felt a cold chill shoot down his spine as he stared into the man's empty eyes.

Ishizu gasped and covered her mouth while Rishid looked away from the cloak in a grudging sort of respect. But Malik just kept staring. Even as he got to his feet again, he didn't take his eyes from the glassy white ones.

"Rishid, Ishizu," he said, finally tearing his gaze away from the pale face to look at his sister and step-brother and they looked back at him.

"What?" Ishizu asked softly, a composed, but sad look on her face.

"I... I want you two to find some place to hide. Somewhere they won't find you if more of these people come."

"What about you, Master Malik?" Rishid asked quietly.

Malik didn't answer for a moment and his eyes wandered back to the corpse lying in his living room next to the embers of the still-burning couch. "I'm boarding the next flight to Japan," he said. "Somehow, I think the pharaoh will want to know about this..."

"_**No one on earth fears the dark more than I do... Every night I go to sleep in pure terror..."**_

(1) In Japan, the new school year actually begins in the spring, not the fall, so spring break is the major break between school years, not summer. I didn't know that when I started this fic, so when Yami Bakura says that Ryou's school year begins in the fall, he's wrong... When having to choose between consistency and being right at least once, I chose being right. D: I might go back and change chapter one someday, but I'll leave it for now.

Sorry, I know this chapter's a little short compared to the last three chapters, but... considering how long most of the other chapters are probably going to end up being, I don't feel especially guilty. D:

Thank you everyone who reviewed! Please r and r. (:

posted 6/11/07 (from now on, I'm going to put the date of when I put a chapter up, just because I like keeping track of stuff like that XD)

o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o – o

Thank goodness for "short" chapters. XD The last two were killers. Though since I notice that the style and flow of this chapter and the last was an improvement over earlier chapters, I avoided doing too much editing. I can tell this is probably about where I really became obsessive about my proof-reading and editing before posting. I'm guessing the changes to the chapters from here on out probably won't be very dramatic.

(first version last edited 6/11/2007, re-edited 9/9/11)


	34. The Dark Lord's Resolve

Ehh, I only meant to wait a week before updating again, but it's been over ten days already. D: Sigh... I've been working on this fic a little, but not in the supremely-dedicated way I envisioned before summer vacation. Hmmm. I'm starting to doubt that I'll get this finished before book seven comes out, especially since I'll be going on a two-week vacation in a while and won't get back until around the 23rd. I'll shoot for getting 38 chapters done, but it seems unlikely I'll get there at my current pace. D:

**-34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34 -34**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. I don't own the quote at the end, either. (that's from manga!Yami Bakura)

Chapter 34: The Dark Lord's Resolve

Near the top floor of a tall, run-down looking mansion, paced Lord Voldemort. The dim light of the flickering fireplace in the corner of the room made the shadow he cast long across the floor as he walked, only making his servant Wormtail, who was standing bent over in front of the Dark Lord's currently empty throne, fidget more nervously than he usually did.

It was obvious that his master was either anxious about something (well, as anxious as the ever self-assured Dark Lord ever got) or thinking about something very carefully. Whichever the case, Wormtail decided to avoid breathing too loudly or move around too much, lest he break his master's concentration. The Dark Lord had been like this since the stranger with white hair had come to this mansion and displayed whatever foreign power he had – Pacing about, then sitting in his throne for awhile, then standing up and pacing again, while giving Wormtail the occasional menial task to carry out.

Voldemort stopped and turned his head sharply in the direction of the door and Wormtail looked up curiously, before cautiously turning his head in the direction of the door as well. Not a moment later, there came a knock.

"That should be the two Death Eaters I sent to Egypt to investigate that thief's secrets," said Voldemort returning to the throne in the center of the room. "I find it surprising that they could be back so soon, however. It doesn't bode well when considering the intelligence and knowledge or lack there of of those two. Ah, well... let them in, Wormtail, and let us see whether they've found anything useful."

Wormtail opened the door and a Death Eater, dressed in the usual long black cloak and white mask came into the room. Even though his face was hidden, his movements were a twitchy, almost half-stagger, as though he were in some sort of shock.

Voldemort watched him through pitiless eyes as the man approached the throne. The Dark Lord's cold expression didn't change as the man finally stopped and regained his sense enough to give a low, respectful bow and wait for his master to speak to him.

"Did you find out anything?" asked Voldemort. "Did you find if the boy had some connection to the thief and the power he uses?"

The Death Eater shuddered slightly and didn't answer right away. "M-My Lord..." he mumbled, his voice so shaky and mournful that Voldemort couldn't help but already know what the answer was.

The Dark Lord's lips tightened and he glared down at his follower. "I see," said Voldemort, his cold anger evident on his pale, snake-like face.

"My Lord," the Death Eater began again, desperate to somehow explain his failure and get a second chance, "we tried to bring the boy back with us, but he put up a fight and – "

The man fell silent at one piercing gaze from his master. "I _see_," Lord Voldemort repeated coldly. "Before you babble on anymore and waste even more of my time, perhaps you'd like to tell me where the other one of you is."

The man trembled slightly, but kept his voice even as he answered simply, "Dead."

Lord Voldemort looked genuinely interested now. "Dead?" he asked. Was it then conceivable that this boy, whose name and face had been shown briefly to the Dark Lord through Legilimency, had displayed powers similar to the thief's? If others besides the thief had the same abilities, then it would provide Lord Voldemort an opportunity to learn about them, including what he should watch out for and what weaknesses there were to these powers, in addition to the one he'd already found in their first encounter. "How exactly did it happen?" Voldemort asked, staring down at the Death Eater. "Were you perhaps attacked by a giant monster? Or perhaps this boy displayed the power to block your spells."

The Death Eater shook his head. "No, he..." He was staring at the floor, still looking frightened, but now also a little embarrassed.

"_Look _at me," Voldemort commanded sharply and the Death Eather's head snapped up automatically. The Dark Lord stared into the man's eyes, studying, not the eyes themselves, but the man's thoughts and feelings behind those eyes. When the Dark Lord spoke again, his voice was deadly cold, "Did the boy show that he had foreign magic of any kind? No – did he show a sign of having magic _at all_?"

There was a moment of silence as the Death Eater did not speak, but Lord Voldemort already knew the answer.

"FOOL!" he exploded suddenly, causing the Death Eater to jump. "You have the nerve to come back here after you failed so abysmally – and to a _muggle_, no less!"

The Death shook and started to beg, "Please Master, I – "

"Too late," said Lord Voldemort softly, raising his wand. "Lord Voldemort does not need such worthless servants."

The man let out a cry of terror and threw his arms in front of him in a vain attempt to protect himself as he was hit with a bright flash of green light. He stood there for a moment, his expression still terror-stricken and his arms held defensively up in front of him before his arms dropped to his sides, then his body soon followed and hit the floor with a dull thud.

"I ought to know by now, I suppose – Even the simplest of tasks won't be carried out if I send incompetent idiots," said Voldemort, shaking his head and Wormtail stared at the dead man fearfully, glad that it wasn't him.

"Wormtail," Voldemort called and the portly servant couldn't help but give a slight start. "You had better clean that up," he said in disgust, gesturing at the dead Death Eater. "Or else it'll start to smell."

"I will clean it up for you," said a voice and Voldemort's head snapped upward, while Wormtail glanced nervously around him, trying to find the source of the voice.

Voldemort's expression betrayed the smallest of scowls and he ignored Wormtail who was twitching and shooting glances all around the room in fear like a fool. Voldemort knew who it was, he recognized that voice. But so soon?

Sure enough, a moment later, a dark figure in the clutches of a giant monster phased in through the door and, as the monster put him down and melted back into the wall, the man's unusual features could be clearly distinguished.

The teenage boy, clad in a long black trench coat, strolled calmly up the aisle toward the throne, casually tossing a small gold object that glinted in the dim firelight every time it came up high enough up and down, catching it in long, thin fingers as pale as the dead.

Voldemort watched the thief with suspicious eyes and his lips pursed into a thin line as the snake-like man glanced up, briefly making eye contact with the new arrival.

So, as Voldemort had known he would, the thief had chosen to return after all. Voldemort would have to find a way to kill him for certain.

The thief paused when he reached the dead body of the Death Eater and briefly surveyed it with morbid fascination as he nudged it with his toe. Smirking slightly to himself, he looked back up from the body to the carpet path in front of him and calmly walked around the corpse.

He walked unhurriedly along the path until he finally stood directly in front of the throne. When he stopped, he caught the small object he'd been playing with and held it still. He gave an exaggerated, mocking bow to the Dark Lord before he straightened and looked right up into the blood-red snake eyes, without the slightest hint of fear.

"Lord Voldemort," said the thief with an extravagant air as he held up the gold, gyroscope-like object for the Dark Lord to see, like a host introducing the first act of a magic show, "you see I've brought you something."

Nagini, whose long, slender form had been curled up motionless next to Lord Voldemort's throne through all of this, lifted her head to stare warily at the thief with her yellow eyes.

Voldemort didn't speak, only continued to watch the thief coldly from his throne. He couldn't be sure of what would happen next, as the thief had hinted that he planned to kill the Dark Lord upon his return. He had not expected the thief to return so soon with a self-given project as big as breaking into Hogwarts, and Voldemort had hoped to have more time to prepare. However, it didn't really matter that much. Despite the power and giant beast that the thief possessed, Voldemort was sure he could hold his own against the both of them if it came down to it. Even if he couldn't and he lost, it would be merely a set-back for this body to die now.

When the spirit saw that the Dark Lord had no intention of saying anything to him or putting up with this facade of politeness, the spirit went on, "In any case, I had something else I wanted to give you as well, but first..."

Without warning, he threw the small gold object to Voldemort and Voldemort's hand shot up and caught it in reflex. His long, bony fingers tightened over it as he looked down at the item, his expression unchanging. He didn't know how he knew it, but he was certain that this was truly something that used to be in Dumbledore's office. It looked exactly like the sort of thing Voldemort had seen when he'd had to visit Dumbledore's office back when the old wizard had been the Transfiguration teacher – the ridiculous sort of thing that no one else would ever think to keep in their working place and made Dumbledore's office so distinguishable from any other teacher's.

Voldemort's frown deepened as he glanced up at the thief again and saw how unsettlingly pleased the youth looked. It irked the Dark Lord, but he had to just put up with it for now. He had to tread carefully around someone who could block the _Avada Kedavra_ at will until he was prepared to take care of the thief for good.

"Do you believe me when I say I retrieved that directly from Dumbledore's own office?" the thief asked.

Voldemort glanced back down at the object, then lifted his red eyes to stare back into the thief's single, laughing one. "I suppose," he said, still frowning. "I must admit that you surprise me."

The thief's grin broadened. "Well, if _that_ impressed you, then I'm anxious to see your reaction when I tell you the second part of my gift. First I must tell you, while I was picking that trinket up for you, it was a necessity for me to disarm the castle's defenses. Right now, _anyone_ can enter Hogwarts castle: it is merely a matter of walking through the front doors."

This pronouncement did not seem to register with the Dark Lord for a moment and when it did, Voldemort felt no particular alarm. The thief could say he had disarmed the powerful magic surrounding the castle all he wanted, but it still came down to the fact that Voldemort knew for a fact that no wizard could simply 'disarm Hogwarts' – Except perhaps Dumbledore, and the former Headmaster was now deceased. Voldemort stared down at the thief, and the teen stared shamelessly back. The Dark Lord searched, down through the corridors of the thief's mind for assurance that it was indeed a falsehood.

"You don't believe me," said the thief after a moment, breaking eye contact to shake his head. "How unfortunate... especially considering what my second gift was going to be. Can you guess? This place you've chosen as your base looks to me as though half its floors are going to cave in at any moment. You could do with a new, more appropriate place to make your movements from."

Voldemort didn't react at first. As he'd been searching the thief's eye, even his own reptilian blood had begun to run cold with every thought he caught a glimpse of. But now his mouth split into a smirk of his own and when he spoke, he spoke slowly and in a low voice, as though he were speaking to a child, "Even if you really did make it possible for one to enter the castle, there are certainly alarms set all around it. My enemies would know that someone had invaded it the moment the castle doors were open. In fact, they will probably already be there, investigating, which would make it less than worth the trouble of moving to."

The spirit shook his head, still smirking, making Voldemort hesitate. The spirit replied, imitating Voldemort's condescending tone, "That's what you believe. But the truth is, it has already been decided that no one will return to Hogwarts next year – it has been completely and utterly abandoned and even though the protective spells were left all around the school, it is no longer a place that holds a high priority for protection."

Voldemort studied the thief for a moment. He didn't seem to be lying. "And how do you know something like that?" asked Voldemort icily.

"I..." The thief lifted one hand to slowly adjust the black scarf tied around his head, his smirk broad. "...simply do."

With that, the thief turned away from him. He cast one last look at Lord Voldemort and his eye flickered to Nagini sitting curled up next to the Dark Lord's throne for a fraction of second.

"Well, good luck to you, Master Voldemort," said the man as he walked away, his hands in his pockets. _'Though I highly doubt you'll be having any.'_

Voldemort studied the thief's back as he passed the dead body of the Death Eater again and went on toward the door. The thief paused next to the door and glanced over his shoulder again at the corpse. Then, without warning, a bright light erupted from the floor beneath the body and was instantly shredded into nothing more than a large stain of blood. Then, the blood-soaked claws of the huge beast he'd seen before came up underneath the thief and closed over him. He vanished from sight just a moment after Voldemort caught a glimpse of the partially visible monster, its scales glinting in the dim firelight, as it pulled its master back through the wall.

Wormtail mentally sighed as he looked at the bloodstain. That was going to be harder than just cleaning up the body.

Voldemort meanwhile leaned on one of his armrests, stroking his chin as he stared silently at the place the thief had disappeared a moment before, thinking. He glanced down at Nagini and frowned a little to himself.

Before, when the thief had come that first time, the teen had treated Voldemort as though the wizard were a threat to his own plans and would come back to finish the Dark Lord off later. But if the two of them were competitors with similar goals in mind, why hadn't the thief pressed a showdown? Instead, the thief seemed determined to continue to treat the matter as a light diversion, as though he wanted to play with the Dark Lord a little before they fought. The thief must be that confident. Was he determined to underestimate Lord Voldemort so much, or could he truly be so incredibly powerful?

Wormtail, who was currently shifting nervously from one foot to another as not entirely sure what to do, jumped as the Dark Lord spoke suddenly.

"No," he said, sitting up straight, his red eyes wide with realization. His expression became normal again and he looked down at Nagini, still laying next to his throne, and remembered the thief's own quick glance at the snake. Voldemort recalled the quick mass of jumbled thoughts he'd felt when the thief had looked up at him after that moment. The Dark Lord leaned back in his throne, a small smirk forming itself on his snake-like features. "That thief... I see that he is afraid of me after all. That is why he works so hard to be careful and to appear without weakness." There could be no doubt – that child must know the truth of what Voldemort had done, and so found it a necessity to stall for time to stop him. It was baffling as to _how_ the teenager would ever find out something like that at all, but...

"W-What, my Lord?" Wormtail asked timidly after a moment of his lord's silent contemplation.

However, Voldemort ignored his servant and when he continued, his voice came out in a series of hisses so Wormtail could not understand what he was saying as he voiced his thoughts to Nagini.

After awhile, Voldemort ceased speaking in the snake language and he stared straight ahead, apparently thinking again. Then he spoke again, this time in English. "Yes... I'm certain of it. That thief's plans – If he is forced to take this particular method, it must mean that his powers are not as divine and untouchable as he would have me believe." In order to know the true weakness of the Dark Lord, the thief must be using his own form of Legilimency, since none but Voldemort knew of it. Perhaps these visits from the thief were to get information in that case. To think that this thief's Legilimency would be that good, almost as good as his own, though Voldemort seriously doubted any wizard's Legilimency could actually surpass his, this new information could almost pass as worrying.

But the Dark Lord's expression betrayed no actual discomfort as he considered these things and it wasn't long before he felt at ease again. "It matters little what he does and doesn't know," he mused allowed. "If he is not killed in his attempts to dismantle me, then I will kill him myself." His red eyes burned and his body seemed to come alive with a terrible pleasure as he said, sneering, "I no longer care about finding information about this man – I see his limits very well. With Dumbledore gone, I am free to unleash my full power and cleverness on this one miserable bandit if need be, and there is absolutely no way he will be able to stand before it and escape alive. If I were simply to make a great sacrifice..."

Next to him, Nagini moved in a gesture that was almost like a shudder.

Through all this Wormtail was nodding his agreement emphatically. Though the thief had scared him out of his wits a moment before, now that the strange youth was gone he regained his faith in his master and decided that there was no way his lord was weaker than some badly-dressed thief off the street.

Satisfied with his new plans, Voldemort leaned back in the throne, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "However," he said after a moment, "there isn't any reason the appearance of this thief should make me drop everything I've been doing up to now. I will issue an order to send the giants to attack another city and leave the Minister of Magic to clean up the muggles' memories as best he can. And we mustn't forget about young Potter, I still have yet to deal with him. Tell me, Wormtail, has Ollivanders finished his research on how to alter my wand yet?"

"N-Not yet, my Lord," Wormtail began. "He keeps saying it's impossible – " He hastily added, under the force of the dark lord's annoyed expression, "B-But we have ways of making him. Have no fear, m-my Lord. We will make him cooperate with us."

"See that you do," said Voldemort after a short pause. He reached down and began to absently stroke Nagini's scales as he continued to think.

"Wormtail," he said finally, breaking the silence and Wormtail stood at attention.

"Y-Yes, my Lord?" squeaked Wormtail.

His narrow red eyes burned with pleasure and a smirk spread across his thin, reptilian lips. "Make preparations to have this wretched excuse for a base moved to Hogwarts castle immediately."

Wormtail gave a tiny start of surprise, but the Dark Lord was already stroking Nagini's scales again, oblivious to his servant's existence. Wormtail probably couldn't understand why the Dark Lord would do as the thief had suggested, considering how suspicious it was and the chance that it was some kind of trap, but Voldemort could see plainly that that wouldn't be of any advantage to the thief for what he was doing; at least not at this point. With the comparatively weak magical defenses of this run-down mansion, the thief would be better off going to the Ministry and informing them exactly how to find this place, and he could still easily do so at any time. Hogwarts would be a virtual fortress once he got in and recast the spells around the entrance that the thief had apparently broken. With Dumbledore already gone, Voldemort was coming close enough to his complete take-over to safely risk the Ministry's finding out the his location. Of course, if the teen had really broken into the castle the first time, he wouldn't have any trouble doing it again, but since he could get into this mansion with equal ease, it mattered little. This thief seemed to have a flare for the dramatic, so perhaps he simply wanted a more exciting stage for the battle.

"And after all," said Voldemort, continuing to stroke Nagini as Wormtail still looked on in amazement, "it would be rude of me to turn down a gift – Especially such a grand gift as the very castle where I given the opportunity to gather the tools to make me what I am today..."

...O

"That was a really nice wedding, Ron," said Hermione, as she used her wand to vanish some trash in the grass.

"What're you telling me for?" Ron asked, using his own wand to make pieces of trash move themselves into a pile.

"I was just commenting..." said Hermione, a little defensively. "It was your brother after all."

After the incident in the Room of Requirement, the three of them had dragged an unconscious Yugi down all seven floors and out of the castle. When they were off the grounds, they'd originally planned to Apparate straight to St. Mungo's to get him treated. It was a miracle he was even alive and he would probably need some medical attention of _some_ kind. However, Yugi had suddenly revived enough to insist that they just take him back to the wedding and not to some hospital, telling them that he was just tired, not hurt.

They probably would have ignored him or at least argued the issue further if they hadn't been already worried about the questions that would probably come if they did take him to the wizarding hospital. They reasoned that he looked fine enough and, like he said, was just tired instead of cursed or dying.

Yugi was still too exhausted and shaky to attend the wedding when they returned to the Burrow, so they allowed him to use Percy's room to rest. Now the wedding was over, so the three of them were helping with the clean up. As they helped, they discussed the event of earlier that day, talking in low voices and stopping whenever someone came too close so that they wouldn't be overheard. Harry thought about using _Muffliato_, but, thinking of the true identity of the Half-Blood Prince, he decided against it.

"I just don't get it," said Hermione, shaking her head. "_Dumbledore_ nearly died when he destroyed the ring and even he had a permanently injured hand to show for it. How did Yugi get away so easily after it attacked him?"

"I don't know," said Harry quietly as he used his wand to move some chairs into a stack.

"And what was that big blue monster?" Ron added.

Harry couldn't answer that either. That thing had looked to him to be even bigger than the Hungarian Horntail and even the dragon he'd had to fight in his fourth year hadn't just appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm more curious about where it came from," said Hermione, voicing Harry's own thoughts. "I would've thought it was an illusion of some kind, but we saw it destroy the tiara with our own eyes. An illusion couldn't have done that."

"It appeared right when the tiara was about to kill Yugi," said Harry slowly. "It was protecting him. Yugi was shouting something before it appeared – "

"So you think this monster is some sort of guardian angel that appears our of nowhere to protect people who're in danger?" Ron asked skeptically.

"I don't think that's what Harry's trying to say," said Hermione slowly. "The thing is, it came to protect to Yugi when he was in trouble so unless it was a coincidence, maybe it was Yugi who was controlling it. Or at the very least the one responsible for bringing it into the room."

"Oh," said Ron. "But how would Yugi have brought something like that out in time to protect himself?"

"That's what we don't know," said Harry, sighing a little. "He couldn't have used a summoning charm or there would have been a huge hole in the wall."

"Maybe the 'monster' is actually a person that Yugi communicates with, and Apparates to him whenever he's in danger," Ron suggested.

If that huge monster was really human, Harry thought to himself with a little amusement, then the world must be a bit further from what he'd envisioned it, and a little closer to Luna Lovegood's version.

"You can't Apparate in Hogwarts," said Hermione dryly. "How many times do I have to tell you, Ron?"

"Well, we weren't supposed to be able to enter Hogwarts, either," Ron muttered. "You never know."

Harry was thoughtful. "Maybe we're over-thinking this and it just had something to do with the Room of Requirement," he said. "Like... Yugi needed protection and the room granted it for him."

"I don't think that's how it works – " Hermione began, but Ron interjected.

"Well, that would certainly solve what we have to do with the rest 'em, wouldn't it?" he said. "We just say, 'I need a room with a big monster that can destroy horcruxes and – bam! We'll get through this mission without a hitch. Guess it'll still be a problem finding them, though..."

"Hermione, Ron, Harry!"

They all tensed a little as they heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling to them and they glanced over at where she was standing next to the Weasley house, a fair distance from where they were cleaning up. She was too far away to have heard a thing they had said of course, but all the same, Hermione shot Ron a little glare and Ron winced.

"If you're done cleaning up over there, come in!" Mrs. Weasley continued in a loud voice so that they could hear her. "It's getting dark out."

"Okay, we'll be there in just a second," Ron called back. He turned back to Harry and Hermione.

"I really don't think it'll be that easy," said Hermione, continuing their conversation in a lower voice.

Ron shrugged. "We could still try. Who knows?"

"Maybe we should just ask Yugi about it to find out what happened," Hermione said doubtfully.

"No," said Harry unexpectedly and Harry and Hermione both turned to him. "We shouldn't get Yugi involved in this. What we need to do is plan on getting started on things as soon as possible and plan on going to Godric's Hollow in the morning."

"You don't want to find out about that monster?" Ron asked in surprise.

"I do want to," Harry began, "but we have more important things to worry about right now." He clenched the fake locket in his pocket and thought of Dumbledore. Dumbledore was counting on him... He couldn't fail.

This one small statement made the atmosphere tense between them as they walked back toward the Burrow. They all knew what Harry meant. Still, Harry felt a twinge of guilt after a while and tried to think of something light and conversational to ease the tension.

"At least cleaning up after this wedding was easier than cleaning up Grimmauld," he said out of the blue.

Hermione and Ron, however, looked even more uncomfortable and didn't meet his eyes. They'd been treating this subject as taboo.

Harry had been thinking of the clean ups in terms of Mrs. Weasley being the one in charge of them both, but he instantly wished he'd said anything else. After all, Grimmauld brought back so many happy, yet painful memories of Sirius. He remembered Sirius being there with them all as they all worked together to make the place livable, and he recalled Sirius' showing him his family tapestry, their gathering up of the many objects, both cursed and harmless together. As he thought about this, he felt a hot rush of anger as he remembered catching Mundungus making off with Sirius' things. The silver cup with the Black family crest, probably just one of an assortment of things...

Without really meaning to, he clutched the locket in his pocket again and found himself thinking about a locket he'd seen in Grimmauld Place. A locket with the Slytherin crest on it. Wouldn't it be ironic if he found out later that that locket had really been the real locket horcrux all along? Right there in front of his face and he hadn't noticed. Of course, that was ridiculous – R.A.B. had written that he planned to destroy the horcrux as soon as possible, and even if he hadn't gotten a chance to, how would it have ended up in Sirius' house?

As they approached the Weasly's house, he tried to dismiss this idea as soon as it had come as it made him feel even worse, thinking that if it was and he had only managed to notice it back then, then Dumbledore might not have risked his life for the fake one. But he couldn't stop himself from dwelling on the Slytherin's locket he'd seen in the Pensieve, and the locket at Grimmauld. Though he truthfully couldn't remember what the locket at Grimmauld Place looked like except that it had the Slytherin crest on it, in his mind's eye the two lockets became exactly the same and he couldn't stop the nagging feeling. He found himself, without knowing it, becoming more and more certain, convincing himself.

Harry stopped walking and, after a moment, Ron and Hermione stopped too, glancing at him over their shoulders.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry didn't answer right away, instead staring down at the ground as he thought, his eyes wide. Finally, he raised his head to look both of them in the face. "You know?" he said and the two of them exchanged glances. "I think I have an idea where the next horcrux might be..."

"_**If someone with a weak heart like you tried to solve the Puzzle, you'd just end up trapped in a labyrinth of darkness."**_

Malik will come back in the next chapter. Promise.

Thank you, everyone who reviewed! Please r and r.

posted 6/22/07, re-edited 9/9/11


	35. Meeting in Domino

Sorry I took so long; this'll probably be the last chapter I post before book seven comes out since I'm leaving on vacation tomorrow (16-hour drive... and we don't have any air conditioning D: -) and 36 needs a ton of revision still. I sort of wish I'd been able to finish before book seven because all the plot clashes will probably end up bothering me, even if I tell myself not to let them. XD Though I'm not using the same plotline as book seven, I might end up using it (like, I'd like to use the description of Godric's Hollow if it fits my needs as very little is known about it right now...)

Well, thank you everyone for reading up to this point and hope you enjoy book seven! See you next chapter.

**-35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 -35 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively.

Note:

Anzu Mazaki is Téa Gardener.  
Jonouchi is Joey.  
Honda is Tristan.  
Otogi (who is mentioned) is Duke Develen.

Chapter 35: Meeting in Domino

An open window let a cool breeze blow in through the dark apartment room; a few papers sitting next to a closed laptop on the end of a long table upon which sat a large, impressively detailed diorama of a landscape rustled a little, but otherwise the room was silent.

A shadowy figure passed by the table, pausing next to it for a moment before swiftly moving on into the bedroom across the hall.

The figure reached down and picked a rather large metallic device of a strange shape off the small table next to the bed. He examined it for a moment before sliding the band on one side of the device onto his arm.

Withdrawing a deck of cards from his pocket he looked through them before carefully slipping the deck into a compartment on the machine and it clicked into place. The figure smirked.

"I have some free time on my hands before I need to meet with his Highness again," he mused aloud. "I suppose I might as well see just how effective this new deck of mine is while I'm waiting." Yes, he could do with some entertainment... and he knew just the person to try it on.

...O

Meanwhile, in the town of Domino Anzu Mazaki was rushing into the small Kame Game Shop to escape the rather distasteful weather outside. Wiping her wet hair out of her eyes, she took off her soaking raincoat and looked for some place to put it.

"Ah, Anzu," said a voice and she turned to see Yugi's grandpa standing at the back of the shop behind the counter. "It's really pouring out there, isn't it?"

"Sure is," replied the teenage girl. "It was just a light drizzle when I was leaving the house, so I didn't think I'd need an umbrella."

"Well, feel free to borrow one of ours when you have to go back," said Grandpa.

"Thanks," Anzu answered, smiling. She stopped, hesitating as the question she'd been thinking about since long before she'd arrived at the game shop came to her mind, and wondering if she wanted to hear the answer or not. "Uh, by any chance..." she began, "I mean, there hasn't been any word from Yugi yet, has there?"

Grandpa's smile faded as well and he shook his head soberly. "No nothing yet, I'm afraid."

"Oh... I see," said Anzu, trying to hide her her disappointment and failing.

A while ago, Yugi had left Domino abruptly for apparently no reason at all and then written to them later that he was staying at a boarding school, adding that they shouldn't worry about him. When he'd finally returned a few days ago, he'd immediately said he couldn't stay long and had to go again. He wouldn't give them a straight reason why though and evaded almost all of their questions. "How did you get good enough at speaking English to go to a school in England?" they tried to ask. "How did you get to England in the first place?" "Why did you have owls deliver your letters?" For some reason, he didn't seem to want to tell them.

Grandpa had been the one to tell them most of what they knew about what Yugi was doing so ever since Yugi had left again she and the guys had been hanging around the Game Shop in hopes that Yugi would send Grandpa another letter, like the one in January. However, he had yet to send a thing.

"Here, I'll show you where you can put that," said Grandpa, gesturing at Anzu's dripping raincoat.

"Oh, right," said Anzu and Grandpa led her back into the living area behind the Game Shop where she found a coat stand.

"Jonouchi and Honda sure are late," said Anzu after she hung up her coat and they returned to the Game Shop area. She put her hands on her hips. "Those two – ! Probably sleeping in again if I know them."

Grandpa chuckled. "Anyway, Anzu, why don't you help me sweep up the shop? That would be a big help."

Sighing a little, Anzu let go of her annoyance for the moment and called a "Sure" before taking the broom and starting to the corner of the store, where the most dust was sure to have collected.

It wasn't all that long of a time later that Jonouchi and Honda entered the Game Shop, both dripping wet, Jonouchi especially thanks to the number of holes in his raincoat.

"It's rainin' cats and dogs out there," said Jonouchi, shaking his head to get the water out of his hair, sending little droplets everywhere.

"Yeah," Honda agreed, raising his arm to shield himself from Jonouchi. "And speaking of dogs..."

"Don't even start with me," Jonouchi said, sending his friend a quick glare which Honda ignored.

Anzu sounded slightly exasperated as she said, "So you guys finally show up."

"Oh, hey Anzu," said Jonouchi. "Have you heard from-"

But Anzu was already shaking her head and Jonouchi looked a little crestfallen.

"Oh well," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "It's only been a couple of days, so he might still write something to us sometime. Maybe he'll tell us what's going on."

"But he never actually said he would send us a letter at all," Honda pointed out, feeling that someone needed to be the voice of realism/pessimism since Otogi wasn't there. "When you told him to write you, he didn't say he would, and besides, he's probably too busy with whatever it is he's doing already to have time to explain things to us. He'll tell us all about it when he gets back."

"And yet you're still here," said Jonouchi dryly.

Grandpa decided this was a good opportunity to cut in. "Are you youngsters going to just stand around talking or are you going to get some work done? If you're going to be loitering around my shop, hoping to read Yugi's letters before I do, then I'm expecting you to earn your keep!"

"Okay, okay, we're gettin' on it," said Jonouchi, making a face. He and Honda started over toward the cleaning supplies Grandpa had gotten out earlier that morning in expectation of their coming. "You're a real slave-driver, y'know that Gramps?"

"It's you who's just lazy, Jou," said Anzu, rolling her eyes, but blinked in surprise as her eyes paused on the glass door of the Game Shop.

"Hey..." she said hesitantly. "I think there's someone out there."

"What?" said Honda as he and Jonouchi turned around to look at the door.

"Who besides us would be crazy enough to be out in this weather?" Jonouchi asked.

There was a flash of lightning and the stranger's form became illuminated for a brief moment.

"Hey, isn't that – ?" Honda began.

"Yeah," Jonouchi growled. "Don' worry, I'll take care of it."

The little shop bell tinkled as the figure stepped into the Game Shop. Water dripped off the long black cloak and the gray chains attached to the neck and hood jangled as he took a step forward. The white eye of Horus symbol above the chain on the hood stood out the most however, contrasting sharply with the rest of the dark cloak.

Jonouchi immediately stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "I thought the Ghouls were gone for good – Not that it matters. Because if you're not outta here on the count of three..."

"Hold on," said the stranger, putting up a hand. He pulled back the black hood to reveal a head with tan skin and blond hair.

"It's Malik Ishtar!" cried Anzu, the first to speak. "What are you doing here?"

"Greetings, everyone," said Malik, smiling though he looked rather exhausted.

"What's the deal?" Jonouchi demanded. "Wearing that thing and scaring us like that..." He gestured at the cloak.

Malik wiped some the hair that was plastered to his face out of his eyes and answered a little mischievously, despite his still-weary smile, "Well, I had to keep the rain out somehow, didn't I? I wasn't trying to scare you."

"Like heck you weren't," Jonouchi muttered.

"Something wrong?" Honda asked, taking notice of the dark bags under Malik's eyes.

"Jet lag," Malik responded, glancing over at Honda. "First time on a plane, you know – I really hate flying. I preferred the boat, I think, but with time constraints, sacrifices must be made."

"Hey... Malik?" Anzu began hesitantly. "Did you... Did you get our call?"

"What? Oh, yes. Ishizu received it on the answering machine."

"So," Anzu said, nervously tapping her fingers against the broom handle, "So _do_ you... do you know what Yugi could be up to?"

"Up to..." Malik repeated uncomfortably. "No, not really."

"Don't tell me you came all this way to tell us that," Jonouchi interjected. "Here we were, waitin' and wondering if you'd be able to tell us anything..."

Malik grinned slightly. "That's thanks to an elementary mistake on your part, actually. You didn't leave your phone number, so I'm not sure what it was you expected."

Jonouchi looked as though he were about to argue, but then stopped. "Oh," he said, slapping his forehead. "I knew I'd forgot somethin'."

Anzu looked as though she wanted to smack her own forehead and Honda said, "That's the last time we entrust Jonouchi with anything important."

"How did you get our phone number anyway?" Malik asked quickly as Jonouchi looked briefly on the verge of giving his friend a good punch in the face.

"Anzu looked it up on the Internet," said Honda, still keeping a wary eye on Jonouchi as he explained. "Under 'Supreme General of Antiquities.'"

Deciding not to ask why their home number would be on the Internet, Malik asked, "Well, in any case, where is Yugi now? You said he left again right away, but where did he go?"

"When he left before, he went to a boarding school," Anzu said, "in England, like Jonouchi told you. But he didn't say where he was going this time. I got the feeling that he was going back to England – "

"_England_?" said Malik, whipping around in surprise before glancing curiously at Jonouchi. "You didn't say it was in England. I wouldn't have guessed Yugi could even speak English."

"Join the club," said Jonouchi.

"So... you know it's in England, but you don't really know where?" Malik continued. "Do you what the boarding school's name was at least?"

Anzu shook her head. "No, he didn't say what it was called either. But anyway, he didn't actually say he was going back there. The school year in England is over now anyway, so it would be strange for him to be at the school over the summer, I would think."

"Oh," said Malik quietly, looking away.

"Why do you want to know?" Honda asked. "You came all the way here. Just because you were a little worried? I mean, it isn't so important that you'd think of going all the way to England to find him... is it?"

"Well, yes," Malik answered. "There's something important I need to discuss with him."

"Like, what kind of 'important'?" Jonouchi wanted to know.

"Just... something," said Malik. He didn't want to waste time going into details at the moment. "So, you really don't have any idea _where_ in England he is?"

Anzu shook her head. "Not one clue."

"I see," said Malik, a little at a loss. He needed to warn Yugi about what had happened, but that would be hard if his only lead turned out to be 'somewhere in England.' He couldn't even hope to somehow stumble upon Yugi by asking around about a small person with tri-colored hair because Malik couldn't speak English.

Malik suddenly stopped for a second, thinking. "Wait a minute – "

"What 'wait a minute'?" Jonouchi demanded suspiciously, not missing the distinct look of realization that had just passed across Malik's face. They were tired of being left out of things.

But Malik ignored him, thinking. The strangers who had attacked them had spoken English. Was that a coincidence?

Malik shook his head. "No, it's nothing," he said finally. "In any case, I think I'll go to England anyway, even if I have no idea where Yugi is, and just rely on fate to lead me to him."

He turned around to face the door once more.

"Hold on," said Jonouchi, taking another step forward. "Take us with you."

Malik glanced at Jonouchi over his shoulder. A flicker of surprise passed across his face, though he knew he should have been expecting it. He looked thoughtful for a moment before he said, "No, I think it would be better if you remained here."

"Why's that?" Jonouchi demanded angrily. "We're his friends – we gotta be there for him if he needs us."

"Yeah," Honda and Anzu agreed.

"No, you all stay here," Malik repeated. "Someone needs to stay back in case Yugi decides to come back."

"Grandpa'll be here," said Jonouchi immediately.

Malik sighed. "Yugi will be fine. He has the pharaoh with him so it's not as if he's alone. Besides – " His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile – "I don't have the plane fare for all you."

None of them looked very amused and Jonouchi frowned in annoyance.

"We're coming," Jonouchi insisted.

"No," said Malik again. "Listen, it's better that you don't get involved until we know exactly what's going on."

"But...!" said Jonouchi, but stopped as he noticed the startled look that flashed across Malik's face.

"What is it?" asked Honda.

"That's strange..." said Malik. "You're all gathered here to comfort each other in Yugi absence, aren't you? Why isn't Bakura with you?"

"Well, not exactly..." Jonouchi muttered in response to Malik's first observation, but Anzu answered Malik.

"He left on a trip in September," she said. "He didn't say where he was going or how long he'd be gone, but that he'd been planning it specially for a while. I guess it just seems like the sort of mysterious thing that Bakura would do, and he told us beforehand what it was about, so we weren't worried. But it is weird that he's been gone so long, now that you mention it."

Malik didn't speak, but his expression darkened slightly and a small frown crossed his face.

"Why?" Honda asked. "What's wrong? It's not like he has the Millennium Ring anymore."

Malik hesitated. "Never mind, it's probably nothing."

"We're coming with you and you can't stop us," Jonouchi repeated stubbornly, but Malik shook his head.

"No, I already told you you can't. Besides, you have to know I'm looking for a needle in a haystack here – You're probably more likely to see him if you wait back here for him to come back than if you go hiking all over England with me."

"But if that's really true, why _are_ you bothering to go to England, Malik?" Anzu asked, more perceptive than she looked.

For some reason, Malik looked slightly nervous for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Like I said, I'm hoping to get lucky."

Jonouchi didn't look quite convinced and seemed to be still trying to find an argument that would persuade Malik.

"Just stay here," said Malik, turning his head to look at the glass door. "Yugi's probably fine, anyway. I'm sure you can live without him for a week or two."

"But..." said Jonouchi, "even if there's only a fraction of a chance I could help, I still wanna be there." He clenched his fist at his side, and Honda and Anzu nodded their agreement.

Malik put his hand on the door and pushed it so it was a sliver of the way open, enough so that the pounding of the rainstorm outside could be heard more clearly and so that a cool breeze blew through the Game Shop.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice so quiet that his words were almost lost in the sound of the storm outside. He reached back and pulled his hood back over his head. "I'll see you then... I wish you all well."

He pushed the door open completely and the howling wind along with the pounding rain became deafening for a brief moment before the door shut loudly behind him and the Game Shop went silent once again.

"Malik... that jerk," said Jonouchi quietly.

...O

Malik trudged alone, his head bent against the harsh wind and rain.

Despite what he'd told Jonouchi, his cloak didn't keep out the rain at all. The water had already soaked clear through to his clothing underneath and the cloak, which was already fairly heavy when it was dry, became an almost immeasurable burden as the drenched cloak absorbed more water and weighed him down even more with every step. The cold, wet cloak pressed against him, some parts stickily warm, while others that weren't right next to his body would occasionally brush up against him by accident and make him flinch at the cold.

Malik had actually chosen to wear his old Ghouls cloak, not to keep out the rain, but because he'd hoped that it would protect his identity in case others like those two guys in cloaks and masks were still after him. He had absolutely no idea how big the cult was. For all he knew, they were an international organization and his face was known by every member of it. Unlikely, he knew, but he hoped that on the off-chance the cloak would help if they hadn't already spotted him at the airport.

However, he kept arguing with himself whether it was pointless or not to wear it when it was obvious no one except him was stupid enough to be walking around out in this weather. He didn't have much of a choice on the walking part, because it was his only way to get to the particular bus stop that would take him back to the airport, but it would be a lot easier to walk if he took off this cloak. If he'd been thinking he would have called a cab instead while he was at the Game Shop, but he'd been so eager to get out to avoid giving Yugi's little posse even more time to try to force their way along on his trip, he hadn't been thinking of anything else.

Anyway, once he got to the airport, he'd go to England. If the two cloaks speaking English meant some sort of connection to England, then there was a good chance that Yugi's being in England meant that he was already involved somehow. All Malik had to do was start visiting the spots where any destruction or strange things were happening and he was sure to run into Yugi sooner or later. He felt slightly guilty for misleading Jonouchi and the others, but they would never have stopped insisting they come along otherwise. And he doubted the pharaoh would ever forgive him if he exposed them to such danger as the two cloaks had posed. It would have been one thing if he'd still had his Millennium Rod, but without any magic of their own, they would all be virtually defenseless.

Because Malik kept his head bent against the harsh weather as much as possible, he didn't notice the shadowy figure standing just at the end of the next corner right away. However, when Malik glanced up to reassure himself that he was still headed in the direction he wanted to go, he hesitated when he saw a lone man's dark outline in the rain.

Malik lowered his eyes again, not really thinking much about the person until it occurred to him that this person had also failed to bring an umbrella out into this dreary weather. So there was someone else as unlucky (or maybe just plain stupid) as him, eh?

Half-smiling to himself, Malik glanced up again at his path and his eyes flickered to the figure again. His expression turned pensive as he realized the figure was truly just standing at the end of the corner, not hurrying to get out of the rain like an ordinary person. As he got closer, Malik suddenly got the impression that the person was wearing some sort of long coat or – No... a cloak?

Though in reality, anything of the sort was difficult to make out through the blur of the rain, Malik suddenly felt a chill and quickly lowered his eyes again. Had they found him already? Continuing to keep his eyes down, he quickened his pace.

As he came close to passing the figure, Malik felt his pounding heart freeze as the figure called out to him.

"Why, hello," said the stranger. "Fancy meeting you here."

His entire body tense, ready to react to anything that might happen, Malik continued on walking with his head down, pretending he hadn't heard.

"Are you ignoring me?" asked the stranger, and promptly stepped sideways to block Malik's path.

Malik was beginning to think the voice sounded familiar, though he didn't think it could be the cloak who'd run away from their apartment. However, Malik still didn't speak and attempted to walk around the figure, his eyes on the ground.

The stranger moved to block him again and, probably sensing that Malik was about to dodge around him and take off down the sidewalk, he said, "You should know Malik, I'm not letting you pass until you at least show a bit of courtesy and be kind enough to greet an old friend who's talking to you."

Malik knew he recognized the voice that time and, jumping back a step, he looked up sharply into the stranger's face. He now saw that the figure was not a cult follower dressed in a white mask and black cloak from before, but Malik felt his heart drop into his stomach all the same.

"I thought you were supposed to be on some sort of mysterious trip," Malik said lamely.

Ryou Bakura – or at least that was the name meant to be associated with that face – grinned. "I'm back temporarily, old partner. I was just on my way back to England when I happened to see you, so I thought I should at least stop to say hello."

"England?" said Malik, his eyes narrowing.

"Yes," said the spirit simply, for some unknown reason looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Then he added, "That's where the pharaoh is, after all."

"I see," said Malik, frowning in thought. For a moment, when the spirit had mentioned having been in England, Malik had wondered if the spirit knew something about the weird things happening there and the skull-cloak guys who'd attacked him. But perhaps the spirit was only there because the pharaoh was there.

Not wanting to give the spirit any information, Malik didn't speak his thoughts and instead allowed his eyes to flicker to the conspicuous black scarf covering one of the spirit's eyes. He gestured vaguely. "And what's that for, may I ask?"

The spirit's grin broadened and he swept his arm out in a show of false bravado as he said in a would-be mocking tone of voice, "It's a _fashion statement_, of course."

Malik wrinkled his nose and was tempted to say something like, "Yeah, it looks about like the kind of fashion sense you would have" but he refrained and instead asked, "Why are you here, Spirit? I thought my insane alter ego destroyed you back in Battle City."

"Well, he did," the spirit consented, "but I hope that it would take more than something like that to keep _me_ down permanently."

Somehow, Malik had guessed that this would be the answer; besides, it only made sense that if Bakura's body was restored after Yami Malik was defeated that the spirit would be restored as well. The unfortunate Bakura's fate was tied to the Millennium Ring it seemed, so it didn't come to a huge surprise to Malik that Bakura had regained ownership of it either, even after Malik had given it to Yugi.

Malik's expression hardened slightly and he clenched his fist at his side. No matter what, Malik knew that the spirit of the Millennium Ring was the enemy of the pharaoh. Therefore, the spirit was his enemy as well. Malik straightened his back, despite the pounding of the rain and stared straight back into the spirit's eye. "I'll repeat what I said before," he said loudly, to be heard over the rain, "_Why are you here_?"

His white hair plastered to his face, his black trench coat soaked and looking as heavy as Malik's Ghoul cloak felt, Malik shivered as the sudden powerful leer that crossed the spirit's face blocked out all the other pitiful attributes for a moment. The spirit spoke quietly, though Malik didn't miss a single word, even through the rain.

"I'm going to kill the pharaoh... so don't worry about what I'm doing here. Isn't that what you have wanted all along anyway?"

Malik quickly shook off the paralyzing feeling that had settled over him and said loudly, "You know that's not what I want anymore. Besides, you already failed. You keep trying and trying, yet you have nothing to show for it."

The spirit did not answer, but his smile broadened as though he were enjoying a private joke, before the smile became almost pitying. He closed his eye and shrugged slightly. "If those facts are what you want to rely on, then by all means..."

Malik's eyebrow twitched and he gritted his teeth. "What's that mean?"

Still smiling to himself, the spirit turned around without answering and began to walk away.

"Is that all you had to say?" Malik demanded angrily. "You come and then you leave, just like that?"

"Yes," said the spirit, continuing on. He turned his head to look at Malik over his shoulder as he went and said, "I don't have time to spare chatting with you after all. I told you, I'm off to kill the pharaoh."

Malik felt his anger rising and his body shook slightly as he clenched his fists, but suddenly he stopped as a look of surprise crossed his face. "Wait, you know where the pharaoh is?"

"Of course," said the spirit. "You didn't honestly think I was planning on going on a wild-goose chase all over England, did you?"

"Where is he?" Malik demanded. "Where in England?"

"You really expect me to tell you something like that," said the spirit, his voice beginning to sound distant as he got farther and farther away. "I expected more from you, Malik..."

A determined look on his face, Malik ran after the spirit and roughly grabbed the shoulder of his trench coat. "Play a Shadow Game with me," he said, somewhat breathlessly, though it wasn't because of his short run, as a tremor of excited nervousness began to build in his chest. "Play a Shadow Game with me and if I win, you tell me where the pharaoh is. No wait – better yet, if I win, then you disappear and leave this world in peace."

Because the spirit had his back to him, Malik didn't see the spirit's lips curl into a grin of triumph.

"But what will I get should I come out the winner?" the spirit asked in a light, calm voice.

Malik hesitated but for a split second before he said boldly, "My soul. I'll bet my soul on this game." He would beat the spirit right here, and prevent the pharaoh from having to fight the spirit again. He would protect the pharaoh himself.

"Your soul?" said the spirit. "What an interesting idea... All right, I accept, Malik Ishtar. But I don't know if I'll understand why you're so eager to throw away that soul of yours. It may be worthless, but I would think that at least_ you_ would have some value in it."

"I don't intend to lose," said Malik.

"Rarely anyone does," said the spirit ominously and Malik made a gesture of surprise as the spirit suddenly turned his upper body halfway around. Malik's hand, which was still holding on to the spirit's trench coat went sideways and he was temporarily thrown off-balance.

The spirit took the opportunity to seize him by the front of his cloak and, pulling Malik up so that his face inches from his own, the spirit whispered, "But it would probably be best if we went someplace a little... _drier_, wouldn't you say? We wouldn't want our cards getting more wet than they already are."

Everything around them suddenly went pitch-black and Malik felt as though someone were trying to force him through a small tube. He could still feel the spirit's hand on his cloak, dragging him through the tiny tunnel closing in around him and Malik's insides writhed with discomfort and claustrophobia. But before Malik had too much time to think about what was happening, the feeling ended and he was standing on his feet again.

His ears ringing, he rubbed his temple as the world spun for a moment around him. When he regained his senses, he realized that they were no longer in the rain. He could still hear the howling of the wind however, and the rain pounding against what sounded like a tin roof. Raising his head, he saw tall wooden walls and broken windows on a tilted ceiling, along with metal junk of all kinds lying all around a large, empty space in the middle of the building where he was standing. It must have been some sort of abandoned warehouse.

"Well, what do you think? Comfy?"

Malik's eyes snapped to the voice and he saw that the spirit had already crossed the room to stand opposite him. Malik quickly looked all about the warehouse once again and demanded, "What is this? What did you do?" It didn't feel as though he'd been knocked out and dragged all the way here, but it was also hard to believe that the spirit had suddenly developed some sort of mysterious teleportation ability.

The spirit was grinning. "I brought us out of the rain. Now – are we going to stand around asking meaningless questions all day, or are we going to duel?" The spirit swung his arm up and the water running down the metal of the duel disk flicked off in all directions. Malik had taken no great notice of it until now, since the duel disk seemed so natural on the spirit's arm, just as it was on Yugi's – so much so, Malik might have been more likely to take note if it _hadn't_ been there.

The spirit extended his arm in front of him and the small holographic generators shot out the sides to land on either side of the large space that was the center of the warehouse. There was a rusty creak, no doubt from the water, as the duel disk folded out, and the life point counter shot up to 4000. When the process was completed, the spirit looked up from the duel disk to smirk at Malik.

A look of determination crossed Malik's face as he decided to forget about the mystery, at least for the moment. He needed to focus on what they were about to do right now. He had already seen two of the spirit's duels before, and he had discovered the weakness of the spirit's strategy before the spirit and perhaps even before the pharaoh himself had. Even if the spirit was using a new deck, Malik was sure he could find a weakness again. Plus, the spirit had never actually seen Malik use the current deck that he was using. Malik had a clear advantage and he wasn't one to let such advantages go to waste. There was little chance that the spirit would win this battle.

_'Arrogant fool. Do you really think that you can win, just because of that?' _the spirit thought. His smirk broadened. _'You'll never find the weakness of this new deck of mine... After all, even the Great Pharaoh himself wouldn't be able to find a weakness that isn't there.'_

Raising his own left arm, Malik shoved back the large sleeve of his cloak to reveal a duel disk concealed inside it. Glaring back at the spirit, he answered the question with two words.

"To duel."

"_**I don't want to lose any more friends, even if it means my soul should shatter."**_

The Yugioh gang came into the story after all! If you're wondering why they're hanging out at the game shop in the morning instead of being in school, you have the choice between saying that it's the weekend, or that it's summer vacation (Japanese students have a summer vacation even if it's not the main one, just like we have a spring vacation). Sadly, they probably won't be showing up again though...

Ah, you couldn't really hide a duel disk in the sleeves of a **real** Ghoul's cloak... Because if you actually look at them, (unlike me, apparently) they have regular sleeves, at least in the anime. I looked in the manga, but in most of the pictures with Ghouls, the sleeves were sort of hard to see. There's one or two pictures of Malik that make me think the sleeves in the manga were larger, like the robes/cloak in the movie-Harry Potter world. (thought they still weren't as large as that, and I can't help but think that a duel disk still wouldn't fit inside one) But I envisioned the Ghouls' cloaks as looking more like the Death Eater's cloaks, and how you think of cloaks usually, so I was like, 'Ehh, forget cannon. I'll just make it up so it goes the way I want it to.'

You don't have to read all that. XD I don't know if this is a case of 'authors stressing too much about little details in cannon' or 'authors blatantly ignoring features of the original story just to fit their own agenda.' Either way, there's probably plenty of details I miss because I don't notice them, so I have to pay extra attention to the ones I do notice to make up for it. (:

Thank you for reviewing, everyone (: Please r and r, and enjoy book seven!

Posted 7/6/07, re-edited 9/10/11


	36. Unwelcome Concomitance

D: And so. It's been almost a year... I'm sorry! Every time I saw a new review, I felt guilty. XD I feel like this is kind of due more to laziness than anything else... I just don't think about Yugioh and Harry Potter as much now that both series are over. But, I'm still planning to finish. Someday. X3

**-36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36 -36**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. I don't own the quotes at the end either. (the one for this chapter's from Dumbledore)

Chapter 36: Unwelcome Concomitance

Yugi sat up in bed. However, having moved too quickly, he swooned a bit and had to press a hand to his forehead. The world swirled around him for a moment in a blur of colors before everything went normal again.

"Ohh," he moaned to himself. Before he laid back down again, he took notice of his unfamiliar surroundings. The room was neatly kept, though a thin layer of dust covered everything as though the room hadn't been stayed in for some time.

"Where am I?" he wondered aloud. He rubbed his forehead as it started to throb again.

_/I think we passed out,-/_ came the pharaoh's voice. _/The fight with that tiara really took its toll. These are just the aftereffects now – Do you want me to switch places with you, Partner?-/_

_/Oh, that's right,-/_ said Yugi, the scene of the fight coming back to him. _/No, I'll be fine... What do you think that thing was?-/_

_/I couldn't say,-/_ said the pharaoh. _/But the spirit seemed to think that that tiara was something Harry was looking for./_

_/Maybe he was just trying to throw us off,-/_ Yugi answered. _/I mean, Harry didn't notice the tiara at all while we were there./_

_/Yes, but.../ _ The pharaoh hesitated.

"_You don't know what power a cursed object has... It could kill you." _Did Harry's words suggest that he knew the danger of the tiara at the time? Of course, with the way the tiara acted, anyone would have been able to guess as much.

However, either way, the spirit must have known about the tiara's dangers. He might have even cursed it himself in a plan to get rid of them, though the pharaoh was at a loss as how to explain how the spirit would have gotten such extensive knowledge about wizard curses in such a relatively short length of time. _"The darker side of this world as extended its hand to me"_... The spirit's words from back then made the pharaoh hesitant to be too quick to judge what the spirit was and wasn't capable of now, though.

_/Other self?-/_ Yugi spoke up tentatively.

_/What is it, Partner?-/_ asked the pharaoh, coming out of his thoughts.

_/Didn't the spirit say something like, 'one of the things Harry's looking for'? So could there be other things as dangerous as that tiara?-/_

The pharaoh didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his tone was grave. _/Unfortunately, that may be a real possibility, Yugi./_

_/What are we going to do?-/ _Yugi asked softly, alarmed as he began to sense the deep worry of his normally confident other self. _/The spirit is dangerous – we shouldn't get them involved. We can't let Harry and the others just go around, messing with something the spirit made. I mean, if they'd been the ones fighting the __tiara they'd have been killed, wouldn't they?-/_

_/Don't worry,-/_ said the pharaoh, his voice suddenly more calm and steadying, as though he'd just realized for the first time how much he must be worrying his partner. _/If we just follow them wherever they go, we can be sure to protect them./_

_/I hope you're right.../_

The pharaoh decided not tell Yugi just how close that _thing_ had come to actually killing them. If it hadn't been for the combined protection of his Millennium Puzzle and the Egyptian gods, then they wouldn't have gotten away as easily as they did, with only this drained feeling and a bit of a headache. They'd been lucky, there was no doubt about it.

The more he thought about it, the more uncertain the pharaoh became of whether he could really protect all of them or not if the next object tried to kill them the same way the tiara had. Somehow, he still took comfort in the thought that perhaps Shadow magic was just not suited for fighting wizard magic, and that a highly skilled wizard such as one of the teachers from Hogwarts would not have had as much trouble.

_/So we're just going to the leave the spirit to do whatever he wants while we follow Harry to try and protect him and the others,-/_ said Yugi. _/Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe that's what the spirit wanted us to do all along./_

_/Yes, I know. But what other choice do we have?-/_ The pharaoh hated the idea of giving up on his search for the spirit, especially if even that was part of the spirit's schemes, but he had to admit that he once again had no idea where to begin looking. If the spirit really had created the cursed tiara, then perhaps searching for the other things would lead back to the spirit. The spirit probably wanted that, but the pharaoh knew that he would have to walk into the spirit's trap to some extent in order to catch him.

_/No, we don't have much of a choice about this,-/_ said the pharaoh again with finality. _/I think the spirit will arrange to have some kind of showdown with me sooner or later; that seems to be his way. I'm more worried about what he decides to do with himself before then. If he has, or does join up with the wizarding tyrant Voldemort, a lot of people may be killed and there will be utter chaos./ _

_/You're right,-/ _said Yugi, frowning in thought. _/If the spirit helps Voldemort kill people or whatever Voldemort does... then maybe Voldemort will help the spirit kill us./_

Again, the pharaoh didn't answer for a long moment. Just as Yugi began to feel as though he'd said something he shouldn't have, the pharaoh said softly, his calm voice somewhat at odds with the look on his translucent face, _/Or perhaps a partnership has already taken place – The cursed objects may be Voldemort's idea./_

Yugi drew in a sharp breath.

_/But let's not worry about it now in any case. It would make more sense that Harry and the others would be wanting to do something with them if they had something to do with Voldemort; however, we can't really know that he and the spirit are working together at all, so it doesn't do us any good to dwell on it. Besides, I don't really think it changes things that much: we still have to make sure we're there for Harry and the others, and we don't know where the spirit is anyway to try and stop whatever he's doing./_

_/Yeah.../ _Yugi agreed reluctantly.

But all the same, the pharaoh wracked his brain for some clue in something the spirit had said to him or done that pointed to his not working alone. For some reason, he found himself going back to that time in the entrance hall of Hogwarts where he'd fought the spirit. He could see the spirit holding up the small gyroscope and saying, _'Oh, it's not for me...'_ The pharaoh knitted his eyebrows. He'd almost forgotten about that, but now he realized that there could be no doubt. He sighed, a part of himself having already resigned them to the worst anyway.

Suddenly he frowned, remembering something else from yesterday. _/Hey.../_

_/What is it, Other?-/_ Yugi asked.

_/Why that... He left with the object, and I was the one who won our fight./_

Yugi had no idea what the pharaoh was talking about for a moment, but then he smiled, though he tried not to look too amused. _/Well, you know you have to stand your ground a little on these things. If __**you**__ forget what you wanted, villains almost feel obligated to cheat you blind, Other Self./_

...O

Clutching his chest, Malik fell hard to one knee as his life point counter struck zero.

"I might have known," said a gloating voice from the opposite side of the warehouse. "Have your skills deteriorated since you threw away your duel disk after Battle City? Or perhaps, as I rather suspected when I never witnessed one of your duels, you were always this weak..."

"Shut up," said Malik through gritted teeth and, forcing himself to climb painfully back to his feet, he pulled his fist away from his chest to hold it clenched at his side.

Carefully ignoring Malik's glare, the spirit said casually as he began to remove the cards from where'd they'd been played on his duel disk, "So, what did you think of my new deck?"

"Killing your own monsters wasn't cruel enough for you... so you drain their souls as well now." He took a deep, unsteady breath and continued, "It fits you better than I could describe."

The spirit reshuffled his cards into his deck and replaced it in the deck slot. Lifting his gaze, he grinned broadly at Malik. "Why, thank you, but you shouldn't flatter me so. I daresay, it'll go straight to my head. Well... you should know what happens now."

Malik looked at the spirit defiantly. "I'm not afraid of you."

Without speaking, the spirit reached into his pocket and pulled out something small, and Malik thought it looked like a doll, though he couldn't see very clearly from that far across the warehouse. "Not afraid of me, even knowing I hold your life in my hands?" the spirit asked softly, slowly walking toward him. "You should know, I can do worse than take your soul."

"Huh," said Malik in an unimpressed tone.

The spirit's smirk didn't falter as he continued to advance on Malik, like a stealthy hunter savoring its advance on cornered prey. "I _could_ let you live, if I wanted..." He suddenly re-pocketed the doll-like object and reached into an inside pocket of his trench coat instead.

What the spirit extracted made Malik's stomach twist and his mouth went dry.

"Something wrong?" asked the spirit, but Malik wasn't listening, his mind only filled with images of a burning couch and a murderous green light.

"Where did you get that?" Malik whispered.

The spirit slowly directed the end of the wooden stick at Malik and said, his eye burning with anticipation, "Don't worry... I wouldn't kill you with this. I just want to show you something I'd think you'd find fun... _Imperios_!"

Malik didn't have time to think or dodge as he was struck with something from the stick. However, there was no fire and he didn't die. He only felt a wave of pleasantness wash over him and he found himself forgetting that there was such a thing as pain or unhappiness in the world.

Words were coming out of the spirit's mouth, but they were so quiet and far away that they didn't break the new peace in his mind.

"_Hand over your duel disk..._"

Malik reached down and hit a latch that loosened the band attaching the disk to his arm. Sliding the device off, he handed it to the spirit.

The spirit proceeded to examine it, looking over all the different parts, but Malik made no reaction, even when the spirit began to remove the cards from the playing field and tossed them unceremoniously on the ground. Malik still made no protest, nor had any desire to, as the spirit pulled out his deck and looked through it as though seeing if there were any cards he might want before tossing that on the ground as well.

The spirit pulled back his trench coat and attached the duel disk to his belt. Moving the trench coat back over to conceal the bulky disk somewhat, the spirit finally turned his attention back to Malik. The spirit smirked and Malik could hear the voice again, speaking to him in his head.

_How would you like to kill your beloved pharaoh? Or no, better yet, that sister and step brother of yours?_

Yes... that would be fine...

Malik might have run off right that second if the spirit had let him. However, the spirit was holding his wand up again, and he suddenly jerked it backward in a violent severing motion.

In a moment, everything came back. Malik remembered why he was there and what the spirit was, and the things he would and would never do. He stared at his hands, which were shaking in horror.

"So, what do you think?" asked the spirit, grinning broadly, but Malik, still shivering, took a quick step backward. With his wet shoes, he slipped on one of his own cards and fell backwards, but his gaze didn't once move from the spirit.

"You're a fiend," he said hoarsely, his eyes wide.

"Come now," said the spirit, looking exceedingly pleased. "It wasn't _that_ impressive."

The spirit began to advance on Malik again, and Malik pushed himself backward, edging as fast as he could away from the spirit.

"Not anymore impressive than what you've already done, right Malik?" the spirit continued, his voice lowering until it wasn't much more than a murmur.

Malik continued to back away, not taking his eyes off the spirit, until he hit a barrier. He glanced behind him and saw that he'd come to the wall of the warehouse. Unlike the center of the warehouse which was lit by the dim light that came though the high broken windows that were tilted at the same angle as the angled ceiling high above them, the very edge of the building was cast in a line of shadow.

The spirit loomed over him, his face completely obscured for a moment in the darkness, save his single eye gleaming crimson.

A trickle of sweat slid down Malik's face as Malik stared up into that eye. He wondered, was this how his followers had felt upon hearing his own voice, just after they'd lost a duel?

Gritting his teeth, Malik reached up and wiped the sweat away. He glared up at the spirit.

"You can do whatever you want with me, but it won't change the fact that the pharaoh will still defeat you," said Malik coldly.

As Malik's eyes finished adjusting to the dimmer light, he could see the spirit smirking. The spirit reached up and casually touched his black scarf. "Let's let the final outcome determine that, shall we?" he said softly and, turning around, he walked to the center of the warehouse where the dim, rain-strained light from the windows above him combined to be the brightest.

The chance that Malik would actually find the pharaoh when he went to England, even using 'that strategy,' was almost zero, thought the spirit to himself. He would let all the tomb keepers live for now, at least long enough for them to see the fall of their beloved pharaoh.

_'Yes, Malik... wander the whole country of England until you despair and not even your heart can make your body move anymore, and may you never reunite with him.'_

The spirit turned his head to look at Malik over his shoulder and made eye contact for a split second. Then, a moment later, there was a loud 'crack' and the spirit was gone.

...O

Yugi sat up again, this time more slowly, and carefully eased himself out of bed. _/But I can't help but wonder,-/ _he continued, _/Where does Harry fit into all of this? Why would he be going after the objects if the spirit – or Voldemort, whoever it is – made them?-/_

_/Well, like I said, it makes more sense for Harry to be involved if Voldemort is involved. For one thing, we know that Harry and this Voldemort have some kind of past history, based on the things we heard while we were at the school. Wasn't it Voldemort who killed Harry's parents?-/_

_/Yeah.../_ said Yugi. _/And they said Harry had run-ins with Voldemort after that, too. I wasn't sure I believed everything they said at the time, but if those things are even partly true, Harry might be trying to go after Voldemort himself. To stop him. Harry is that kind of person./_

_/Perhaps, but I still don't know how Harry would know about the objects at all. Could the spirit have been the one to tell Harry about the objects as well?-/_

_/Maybe,-/_ said Yugi, rubbing his cheek tiredly._ /But that means we're still back where we started. We don't know anything for certain, so our best option is to stick with Harry and the others not matter what and just see what happens. That's the most important thing.../ _Going over to the window, Yugi looked out over the backyard garden below and saw the blanket of darkness that had covered the area since yesterday evening. It was a natural darkness, since the sun had not yet risen yet, but it still made Yugi feel a little uneasy.

_/Let's not talk about this anymore,-/_ said Yugi, shivering a little as he drew his rumpled dress clothes closer around him and glanced around at the neatly kept room, wishing he'd brought a change of clothes with him, but he hadn't thought he'd be spending more than a day at the wedding.

_/All right, Yugi,-/_ the pharaoh agreed. Attempting to think things through was just turning out to make him worry more, and worrying had to be about the most taxing thing a person could do. _/Should we go downstairs and see if any of the others are up yet?-/_

_/Might as well,-/_ said Yugi, _/Though I don't think they would be. It's probably not even six o'clock yet./_

Yugi climbed slowly down the narrow staircase and found that he was right, and no one in the house was up and about yet.

_/Let's wait awhile,-/_ the pharaoh suggested and Yugi agreed.

Sighing a little to himself, Yugi leaned against the table as he scanned the dark kitchen. He debated with himself whether to turn the lights on, but he was afraid of disturbing someone by being up so early, though he was sure that most of their bedrooms were upstairs. Without turning on the light, he nervously started to scan the walls for a clock to tell him what time it was and hoped that someone would be getting up soon.

It wasn't long before he spotted a large grandfather clock against the far wall, but as he tried to figure out the time, he saw that it had far too many hands to be an ordinary clock. Upon closer inspection, he saw that each hand had a name on it and that all the hands were pointed at an inscription that described some particular action or location, rather than a number. All pointed to 'mortal peril' except the hand labeled 'Ron' was pointed to 'traveling.' Yugi wondered if this was some sort of private joke among the Weasleys or if the threat of Voldemort really reached all the way out here. He supposed it did, but was at a loss as to how a clock could know that. He hesitated as he saw a piece of paper on the kitchen table, illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the windows and, curious, he had just started over toward it when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

He spun around quickly and, to his surprise, saw several dark figures moving outside the house. He went to the window to get a better look and mumbled to himself, "Hey... that's Harry." Without thinking, he started to the door.

...O

Outside, Harry talked to Ron and Hermione in a low voice.

"Hermione, you put together some provisions for us, right?"

"Yes," said Hermione, holding up a deceptively small-looking bag.

"And Ron, you wrote a note to your mum giving our excuses for why we have to leave?"

"Done," said Ron.

Harry nodded. "Right. Good, then let's get going – " He stopped mid-sentence as he caught sight of a short someone coming out of the house toward them.

"Harry – Hermione – Ron," Yugi called as he jogged up to them. "Where are you going this early in the morning?"

"Er," Harry said uncomfortably, but Hermione took over.

"You should be in bed now, Yugi," she said with a stern look not unlike McGonagall's. "You were in pretty bad shape when we brought you here."

"I'm fine," Yugi began, but cut himself off as he glanced around at the area around him and commented in surprise, "Hey, this is the same place the wedding was at."

"Uh, yeah," said Ron with a note of suppressed sarcasm. "It's my house."

"Oh," said Yugi, sheepish. "Right. I guess that would make sense."

"Anyway," said Hermione with a small exasperated sigh, "don't try to change the subject. You should be resting; if you you push yourself too hard, you won't recover."

"But, like I said, I'm perfectly fine now," Yugi insisted. "Where are you going?"

"It's not important," said Harry quietly. "You'd better just go back to bed, Yugi."

"I'm fine," Yugi repeated lightly, as though he weren't actually listening to them or he didn't think they were serious. He began, a slightly nervous tremor to his tone, "Uh, anyway... Do you think – Do you think I... I was wondering if could go with you. Wherever you're going."

"Um," said Hermione uncertainly, frowning a little and Ron looked uncomfortable.

"No," said Harry firmly. He didn't want to hurt Yugi's feelings or make him feel unwanted, but the boy had to understand the truth. They couldn't just let him come along with them because he thought it would be fun, or because he thought he could be a hero if he got to fight more objects like the tiara.

The three didn't notice the sharpening of the shorter Gryffindor's eyes, or the subtle way his posture straightened into that of someone with an assured air, rather than the shy, timid one of a moment before.

"Why not? Because it's dangerous?" he asked softly, the cheerful friendliness absent from his tone.

Hermione reacted slightly, noticing the change once he spoke, and Harry hesitated, so surprised he was at a temporary loss for words.

"You can't come," Harry repeated finally. "That's all there is to it."

"But why not?" The pharaoh's voice was soft and calm.

Harry opened his mouth to repeat himself, but Ron spoke up instead, seemingly oblivious to any change in Yugi.

"Why do you want to come with us so much anyway?"

Yugi seemed to consider something before he said, "I'll be as direct as I can with you. That tiara from before – from yesterday – was quite dangerous, as you have probably figured out by now. I have reason to believe, that is, I have it from a certain source, that you have plans to _search_ for more things like this tiara. I just want to accompany you."

Hermione's eyes widened and a small sound of surprise escaped Ron at these words; however, Yugi continued to keep his eyes on Harry and Harry didn't betray any of his own surprise.

"Well, I don't know who would've told you something like that, but I'll tell you right now that we aren't doing anything like that," Harry said, not blinking once.

"Then, by all means, tell me where you're going."

"We're going to Godric's Hollow, to visit my parents' graves," Harry answered, after a moment's pause. It was partly true, anyway.

"Let me go with you and I'll pay my respects as well," said Yugi, showing no signs of giving up.

"It's a personal trip." Harry was starting to get irritated now and he balled his hands into fists at his side, wondering just when Yugi had become so stubborn.

Yugi made no reply to this, instead taking a step closer to them with a determined look on his face.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, and gestured at the line of red light that had appeared just over the horizon. "Ron's family will be up soon – "

"I know," said Harry, frowning at Yugi. "Listen Yugi, we need to go now so – " He started to move back away from Yugi, but Yugi boldly stepped closer to them a second time.

"I'm coming with you," Yugi said with that authority of tone he'd never once had a fraction of, at least not before this afternoon.

When Hermione, Ron and Harry only continued to edge away from him, Yugi took on a reasoning tone and touched Harry's arm, though more as though to put himself in a position to be able to grab hold of someone if Harry made a move to Disapparate than as a friendly gesture.

"Listen – I won't ask any questions about what you're doing," said Yugi. "And I promise not to be a liability to you. I just need..."

"You can't – " Harry started, but Hermione was looking at the line of light on the horizon again, which was steadily growing wider.

"Harry," she warned and Harry cast a glance back at the Burrow.

Harry took a quick step back from Yugi and made to Apparate, but this time, Yugi really did seize hold of him, small hand clamping down on his wrist.

"Let go," Harry said coldly.

"No."

"Let go," Harry repeated, attempting to wrestle his arm free from Yugi's grip, but the vertically-challenged Gryffindor was surprisingly strong.

"Harry!" said Hermione and as Harry glanced back toward the house, he heard the murmur of voices within.

"They'll find my note," whispered Ron worriedly. "Mum'll try to stop us from going, I'm sure of it – "

"You can't come," Harry told Yugi, his tone annoyed, but now with a note of urgency as well, as he attempted yet again to get Yugi to let go of his arm. "I'm telling you, you'll just get hurt - "

"You can't stop my coming," said Yugi, staring up into Harry's face without the hint of fear. "I'm going to stop that fiend no matter what – " Then he added, this last sentence seeming like a final, desperate attempt at convincing them to take him willingly, "You didn't resent my help when I took care of that tiara."

Harry was so startled that Yugi would ever make such a suggestion, as though he was hinting that it was too dangerous for them, but not for himself, that he stopped struggling for a moment and just started at Yugi. Harry thought he finally understood: Yugi didn't want to go with them because in his ignorance he thought it would be exciting or because he stupidly wanted to be a hero with them, but because he wanted to protect them.

It was a kind thought, but it was the sort of thought that the teachers at Hogwarts or any number of the adults Harry had met would have. Wanting to keep him in the dark or keep him from fighting the enemy because it was too dangerous, and always just assuming that he, because he was a child, shouldn't be part of a mission. Like a teacher Yugi saw him, Hermione and Ron – he saw them as people who needed protection, rather than four people on the same team, working for the same cause.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he replied icily, "'That 'fiend' is too much for you, Yugi." He opened his mouth to say more, but Hermione interrupted.

"Forget it, let's go Harry! We'll worry about him later – "

Harry closed his mouth again, only continuing to glare down at Yugi, as the thought of his discovery continued to turn itself over in his mind. As Yugi stared back, his expression was determined, yet calm, even as ruby eyes reflected the angry red of the morning light back at him.

Then, a loud 'crack' pierced the silence and the four figures standing in the yard vanished.

"_**What is 'evil'? If I'm loyal to what you say is right, is that all it takes to make me 'good'?" **_

Okay, you probably don't believe me, but that 'deceptively small-looking bag' comment was there before I read book 7. (it's even in my original rough draft in my notebook, which I wrote a LONG time ago) D: It just seemed natural... but I definitely hadn't imagined it out to the extent JKR had, carrying around a tent and a year's supply of food (or however long it was). XD

Well, if I'd posted this chapter before book 7 had come out like I'd planned, I would have put a note here saying how I didn't know if someone could force someone else to take them somewhere via side-along apparition by grabbing them, adding that I thought it probably, in fact, _wasn't_ possible because I had a vague memory of Mundungus disapparating while Harry had his hands around his throat (although... I looked it up and that's not really what happens; Mundungus uses a spell to make Harry let go of his throat before he goes), but I was happy to see that question was answered in book 7, and in favor of what I already had too. (: Forcing side-along apparition is the only way to follow someone or even know where they're going.

(first version last edited 4/29/2008, re-edited 9/10/11)


	37. Grimmauld Place

I'm so sorry! I know this is a million and a half years after my last update, but... I just couldn't get myself to post this. (although it has been pretty much done for two and a half months now...) But I guess you can consider it a late Christmas present or something. (or whatever holiday you celebrate...) And for those of you that lost interest in this story way back in the fourth month of no updates... know that I'm really sorry. D:

**-37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 -37 **

(note: rough draft worked on 8/13/07, finished 10/14/08)

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. I don't own the quotes at the end either (hmm.. I've been thinking about this for awhile and I think I'm going to start saying who the quotes are from. I was going to make a list somewhere, but... that seems like too much work. XD I'll probably go back and change the other chapters sometime, maybe when I'm close to being done with this fic.)

Chapter 37: Grimmauld Place

The dark London street of the small, almost rural town was quiet and deserted in the early morning gloom. However, the sound of four consecutive 'cracks' temporarily broke the silence and four figures appeared, standing on the dark sidewalk next to the street.

Without speaking, Harry started purposefully down the sidewalk, knowing exactly where he needed to be. He didn't look behind him.

Hermione and Ron, who could see by his tense shoulders and stubborn silence that he was clearly angry about something, glanced at each other and then at Yugi before following.

Yugi trailed behind them, ignoring the rather unwelcoming atmosphere.

It didn't take long for Harry to find what he was looking for. Coming to a stop in front of the area directly between the two regular houses of eleven and thirteen, he turned to face the houses. Of course, anyone not from around the area probably wouldn't have noticed that the number twelve house was missing, but that was exactly what Harry expected.

Harry thought of the words, _'Number twelve, Grimmauld Place'_ and the familiar house that had once belonged to his godfather appeared out of nowhere, pushing houses number eleven and thirteen out of the way.

For the first time since they arrived, Harry glanced back at Yugi and saw Yugi glancing around the place they were standing, his eyes falling on everything except the house right in front of them.

It occurred to Harry that because Yugi didn't know to think 'number twelve, Grimmauld Place' that he wouldn't be able to even see the house, let alone get inside. Harry immediately felt relieved; now they could go in and do what they came here to do without worrying about accidentally letting something slip that would clue Yugi in to anything important.

"Well, I guess we should go in now – " said Harry, and he started toward the door, but Hermione touched Harry's arm. Harry glanced at her and she gestured vaguely at Yugi.

Harry shrugged his shoulders in an _"oh well, his problem"_ sort of way and stubbornly turned toward the door again.

However, Hermione grabbed his arm and said to Ron and Yugi, while Harry shot Yugi another cool look, "Just a second, Harry and I are – are going to go check something. Can you two wait back here for a minute?"

"What? What are you checking?" Ron asked suspiciously, while Yugi surveyed them with an unreadable expression.

"Something – " said Hermione, looking rather distracted as she attempted to keep Harry from removing his arm from her grip. "Just stay here and we'll be back soon." Without waiting for Ron to argue, she proceeded to pull Harry a ways down the street. They turned a corner and Hermione stopped and turned to Harry with a look of determination mingled with a little nervousness, as though afraid Harry might blow up at her.

However, she didn't give him time to as she said quickly, "Harry, we have to let him come with us."

"No," Harry replied immediately, not sure he was surprised by Hermione's take on things or not. "He shouldn't even be here." He turned away. He didn't add that he was afraid that Yugi would be so busy try to keep them out of danger that he'd keep them from doing what they needed to do; Hermione probably wouldn't believe that. After all, it wasn't Hermione Yugi had been gazing at with those confident, violet-crimson eyes as he had said, _"You didn't resent my help when I took care of that tiara."_

Instead, he decided to try a logical argument. "Besides, we can't just tell people where the headquarters of the Order used to be. Think about it. The Order might be coming back, now that they know the place was passed to me and not Bellatrix – "

"But Snape knew where it was and how to get in," Hermione said softly. "And now Dumbledore isn't the Secret Keeper anymore..."

Frowning angrily, Harry looked away from her. He knew she was right, but that didn't mean he wanted Yugi coming in with them.

"Besides," Hermione went on, "we can't just leave Yugi standing around out here while we search. He's still wearing the dress robes he had on for Bill and Fleur's wedding, so he'll attract attention when the sun's up a little higher and people start getting up and going about their day. Unless Yugi Apparates back before that, he'll draw all kinds of attention. Judging by the way he's been so far, I'd say he won't be Apparating. Harry... is it really worth the trouble?"

"We could take him somewhere else, then Apparate back here and leave him behind," Harry suggested half-heartedly, but he was already beginning to see that he was fighting a losing battle.

"But he already knows what the place looks like," Hermione pointed out. "He'd just come back here as soon as we took him somewhere else. And it's getting light, so someone might see him appearing out of nowhere – or see us, for that matter."

"Well..."

Apparently seeing Harry's growing sense of defeat, Hermione added, "Besides, we don't really have to tell him anything. What we're actually doing can still be a secret, just like Dumbledore wanted."

Harry sighed, and nodded. "Okay. But remember, don't tell him anything you don't have to. And, we'll have to be careful what we say, even when we think he's not listening."

"Right," said Hermione.

They went back around the corner and down the street to where Ron and Yugi were still waiting in front of the hidden Number 12, Grimmauld Place. When they got back, Ron immediately asked, "What was it? What were you checking?" but Hermione just shook her head.

Hermione went over to Yugi and glanced around several times before she leaned over, looking as though she were on the verge of whispering something into his ear, but, looking nervously around at the empty street and dark windows once again, apparently changed her mind. She got a piece of parchment and quill out of a purse she'd been carrying and Ron made a joke about how Hermione was probably suffering not to be able to carry her textbooks around to do homework with.

Harry wasn't listening however and he frowned at Yugi's back, while Yugi remained preoccupied with watching Hermione write.

As though sensing Harry's eyes on him, Yugi lifted his head and turned to look back at Harry over his shoulder. However, his expression didn't alter at all as he saw Harry's look of displeasure. Yugi didn't look angry or abashed, only... calm. The way Dumbledore had almost always seemed calm whenever he spoke to Harry, despite any kind of horrible circumstance he was in. The way he'd acted when he'd been facing death on the astronomy tower, until Snape had arrived...

Thinking of his affection for the deceased Headmaster, and at the same time his hatred for his erstwhile Potion's Professor, he turned away from Yugi. Yugi turned away as well as Hermione handed him the small piece of parchment, instructing him to memorize the words.

Harry glanced at Yugi again, though with less anger. He wished Yugi hadn't insisted on coming – it complicated everything. Dumbledore hadn't wanted anyone to know and Yugi might be putting himself in danger – or end up putting them all in danger. If only Dumbledore hadn't been so blind as to be fooled by his own double agent... Harry had a sudden thought and he studied Yugi with a pensive expression while Yugi gave the parchment back to Hermione, who vanished it with a flick of her wand.

"Let's hurry," Hermione said in a low voice as she started toward the stone steps that led up to number twelve. "The sun's getting higher."

Yugi evidently had no trouble seeing the dirty old house now and followed her.

It couldn't be... Yugi couldn't possibly be like Peter Pettigrew or Snape. A servant of Voldemort wouldn't actually destroy a horcrux just to gain their trust. No way it would be worth such a high price. But maybe, if the tiara had been a fake...

Harry shook his head. _'No way.'_ He had no reason to suspect Yugi of anything. Yet.

Hermione tried the doorknob and shook her head. "It's locked," she whispered.

"Here, let me try that," said Ron, pulling out his wand. "_Alohomora!_" he hissed, pointing his wand at the doorknob, but nothing happened.

"That won't work, there's no keyhole," said Hermione, pointing. "If you can't unlock it with a key, you won't be able to unlock it that way. Oh, what are we going to do?"

Harry stared at the silver door knocker fashioned to look like a serpent and tried to remember his first trip to this place.

Without a word, Harry passed Hermione and Ron and, pulling out his own wand, he tapped once on the front of the old door.

"What are you doing, Harry?" Hermione asked as the door still did nothing.

Harry shrugged. "That's what Lupin did before when we were here. He used his wand."

"He must have been doing some sort of spell," said Hermione in disappointment as she glanced over in the direction of the quickly-rising sun again. "Oh, what'll we..."

"We'll look pretty stupid if we came all this way and we can't even get in," Ron said grimly. "But maybe if we broke down the door, or blew it up with something – "

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hermione said quickly.

Yugi had been so quiet all during this time that they'd nearly forgot he was there and looked over at him in surprise when he spoke. "If that's what it takes, I'll be happy to help," he said, reaching into his robes for something they couldn't see.

"You wouldn't," said Ron, his eyes bright and a grin on his face. "Would you?" He looked positively gleeful at the prospect of seeing the big blue monster cause some more destruction.

"R-Remember, we don't want to attract attention," said Hermione, not missing Yugi's rather pleased look at this and began squeezing her purse nervously. She shot Ron a quick disapproving look and turned to Harry for support. "Isn't that right, Harry?"

But again, Harry was so busy thinking about the problem that he wasn't listening to the three's conversation. It was unbelievable to think, Harry thought, that they'd come here thinking that they might have the lead that they'd been afraid they wouldn't get, only to find that they couldn't get into the house. Especially a house that supposedly belonged to him.

"_Um_... anyway, we can't just stay here," said Hermione, determined to drive the subject away from violence and building demolition. She looked eastward again, where over half of the fiery white sphere could now be seen on the horizon, shedding light on the many buildings of the area so that they cast long shadows over the street. "People will be getting up soon if they aren't up already, and they'll see us. Come on, Harry, if we go now, maybe we can ask someone in the Order."

Harry suddenly looked startled, having just gotten an idea.

"Can they really see us?" Ron asked. "If they can't see the house..."

Without telling his idea to any of them and without bothering to look around the street to make sure no one was out or watching them, he called softly into the dim morning light, "Kreacher?"

...O

While Harry and others were still on the verge of beginning their search of the abandoned house, someone else was beginning an early-morning search of his own. Amongst the sounds of ocean waves crashing against a jagged rock line, a sharp 'crack' broke the steady rhythm and a figure dressed in a long black coat appeared on one of the many rock outcrops below the high cliff above.

His single eye gleamed in the darkness as he scanned the area around him, until his gaze fell on a deep fissure that scarred the side of the cliff. He made no movement save the small smile of victory that spread across his lips as he silently beckoned to the monster within his soul. Then, swiftly and silently, his position still remaining perfectly still as though he were standing on an invisible escalator, his form moved up off the outcrop and floated down silently toward the crevice.

However, just as it seemed he would come within range of getting inside it, he halted in midair, observing the crevice from above. As a line of sunlight began to form on the eastern horizon and for a moment, thick gray scales of an enormous creature looming behind the man glimmered into view. Then, a slight sneer on his face, the spirit moved straight into the side of the cliff, content that he was not so confined as to have to swim through the cold dark waters inside the crack below him.

He emerged into the open area that the fissure below expanded into and he had Diabound set him down on the dark slippery rock at the very entrance to the cave. He didn't bother to look around him, as though he'd gone this path a thousand times before as he strolled to the opposite side of the cave.

He stood in front of the wall of rock, casually looking it up and down. Yes, this was indeed the spot.

Suddenly, his slow, fluid motions broke into a flurry of movement and a dark sticky substance splattered from the spirit's hand onto the rock wall next to him. The outline of white light that appeared around the doorway illuminated the grotesquely pleased look on the spirit's face as he licked the crimson substance on his hand and the slow, almost lazy movement of his other arm as it flicked the same substance from the sharp metallic edge of his duel disk.

Then the silver lining vanished, along with the rock door that it had silhouetted a moment before, opening the way to the unnatural dark of the other room.

"_**Only fools rely on the help of the desperate."**_

Sorry... I know this is a short chapter. D:

Some notes:

When I first wrote the rough draft for this, it occurred to me that I didn't really know what happens to the Fidelius charm when the secret keeper dies. I looked it up on the HP lexicon, but at the time it said that it wasn't known. Then I started to get rather worried, because when I actually started to think about it, I realized that if the charm didn't lift, then nobody could have told Yami how to get in since the Secret Keeper has to personally give that information (or be the one to send the note), and if the charm _is_ lifted, then Yami would be able to see it, wouldn't he? So I was considering cutting that whole scene out and just making him be able to see it, but then it was explained in book seven. It somehow worked out better than I could have hoped. (: Of course, it made sense, since they talked about how even if the Secret Keeper died, it wouldn't help Voldemort. (it did say something like that, didn't it?)

Most everything in this chapter didn't end up being changed a whole lot from my original rough draft. The part where Ron suggested that they couldn't be seen while standing near the house was inspired by book 7, though. I never really thought about that; I always just assumed that you could be seen until you actually entered the house.

Thank you so much everyone for reading and reviewing! (even though I haven't been replying individually to them as of late... I don't think I'm supposed to reply before/after chapters like I used to – rather, authors are supposed to use the "reply" button in the review section. And since I don't want to spam anyone's e-mail account, I've only been answering questions here and there...) I'm really appreciative of how patient you've been with me and I love getting your thoughts on the story... I still intend to finish this, I just don't know how much time it's going to take. X3

posted 1/7/09

(earlier version last edited 10/18/2009, re-edited 9/10/11)


	38. Search and Destroy

Sorry, I know it's been ages... I just have so many things I want to do over the summer, and I had more work than ever this year at college. D: (Well, actually. I can't really use that as an excuse, since I've had this chapter technically done for a LONNGGGG time, probably since Christmas, but I've kept thinking, 'I just want to proofread that one more time' XD )

So anyway, hope you enjoy (:

**-38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 -38 **

(note: rough draft began 8/13/07, worked on 7/8/10)

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. I don't own the quotes at the end either.

Chapter 38: Search and Destroy

"Kreacher?"

To Harry's relief, a small 'crack' sounded nearby and the old gnarled house elf appeared.

Kreacher bowed low and said in a less than gracious sort of tone, "Kreacher has come at Master's bidding."

Before Kreacher could go on to mumble to himself in a perfectly audible tone about how much he hated being bound to a filthy half-breed and would much rather serve the wonderful Malfoy or Bellatrix, Harry said, "Kreacher, open the door and let us in."

Kreacher bowed low again and, without another word, vanished with a crack.

"Why that little – " Ron began, but just then, there came the metallic clicks of the door being unlocked and a clatter of something that might have been a chain slithering off the door on the other side. The door creaked open and the four saw Kreacher standing in the doorway.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Hermione kindly, but Kreacher refused to look at her as they all clambered in over the threshold and into the dark hallway.

The door closed eerily behind them and the hallway remained completely dark for a one long moment. Then the old gas lamps along the wall finally sputtered to life, starting with the ones right next to their group continuing down the length of the hall.

"This is – " Yugi began, startling everyone, but Hermione pressed a finger to her lips. Yugi stopped mid-sentence and glanced over at her with raised eyebrows.

"We have to be quiet while we're in the hall," Hermione explained in a whisper, "or we'll wake _her_ up."

"You mean that there's someone else here?" said Yugi, lowering his voice.

"Well... in a manner of speaking."

Yugi gave the peeling paint of the walls a wary look as they started down the hallway before continuing quietly, "I apologize. I was only going to comment that this is a rather odd place for a person's burial." He turned his head to look the chained door behind him.

Having forgotten about what he'd told Yugi earlier, Harry was caught off-guard for a moment, but he recovered quickly. He turned his head away from Yugi to look at the shabby walls of the hallway. "It isn't a burial site," he said curtly, almost forgetting to whisper. He didn't feel like he owed Yugi an explanation though, especially since Yugi was probably just being snide. His insistence on coming must mean that he'd already guessed the truth to some extent anyway. So Harry just remained hostilely silent as they walked.

The pharaoh however, though Harry didn't see it, hesitated in confusion for a moment at this. He did not know whether Harry had lied about visiting his parents, or if the burial site held some secret Harry was determined not to let him see and so had taken a detour, still hoping to lose the pharaoh at some point. The pharaoh would have to keep his guard up on this escapade.

Looking away from tall former Quidditch Captain, the pharaoh redirected his attention to the little creature in a loin-cloth walking along silently beside them. He noticed how it seemed rather sulky and resentful. The pharaoh lifted his gaze, glancing back at Harry for a moment before he turned away again. He probably was better off not asking anymore questions just yet.

The group stayed silent for the length of the hallway. The pharaoh followed suit as his three guides crept with special care past some ragged, thick curtains and he theorized that a door to another room was hidden behind them. Whoever Hermione had been talking about could be sleeping right behind the door. But whether waking her up would result in their being kicked out or if it meant they would be attacked, the pharaoh hated to think.

When they were about halfway up the stairs, Hermione asked, "You saw it in the drawing room, right Harry?" When he didn't answer, she took it as an affirmative and didn't stop.

About that time the little creature began to mutter to himself. The pharaoh glanced back down at him curiously as he tried to understood what it was saying. He thought he caught the word 'mudblood' and 'desecrated' and he began to wonder who or what "Kreacher" was exactly.

Ron must have seen him looking and caught his expression, because he leaned over and whispered, "Kreacher's a house elf, like we were telling you about earlier. He's usually working at Hogwarts..." Ron trailed off as he rethought this and added, "But I dunno if he'll work there anymore. Hogwarts looked pretty dead, didn't it?"

The pharaoh mouthed a silent "oh" and, knitting his eyebrows a little, glanced back at Kreacher with a look on his face that clearly said, "He's not what I imagined."

Ron grinned and said, still whispering, "Most house elves aren't like _that_." He gestured at the muttering elf. "While we were at Hogwarts, we used to sneak down to the kitchens sometimes and the elves gave us whatever we wanted – "

He stopped as Hermione stalked past them, looking annoyed.

Ron shrugged and they followed her over the top of the stairs and into a room a short ways down the hall.

When they got inside, the pharaoh saw that the room wasn't that much different from what he'd seen of the house so far, with its decorations giving the impression that the place must have once been richly furnished, but had obviously been allowed to deteriorate over the years. There as a thin layer of dust over everything and the peeling, dull-green paint emphasized how abandoned it looked. Heavy curtains, which were also green, blocked almost all the morning light from entering the gloomy room and, after the pharaoh's eyes had time to adjust, he thought he could just make out what looked like several old tapestries hanging on the opposite wall.

Hermione went over to the curtains and opened one or two of them up, making the three boys wince at the bright light.

Like the pharaoh, Harry noticed the tapestries as well and only looked away when he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes. However, Harry had not been looking at the tapestries with curiosity. Instead, as he stared at the filthy, aging tapestries, he thought of the time he'd stood with Sirius in this very room and he'd listened to his godfather talk about the Blacks.

Harry felt a sharp pang of loss and remembered his intent to never set foot in this house again. Naturally, that had been just before he'd learned that Grimmauld Place officially belonged to him.

"Well," said Hermione, clearing her throat nervously. "Should we start looking now?"

Harry forced himself out of his melancholy thoughts and tried to refocus on the task at hand. "Yeah, we'd better."

The pharaoh had no idea what they were looking for, so he didn't move even as the three started toward some cabinets resting against the side walls. Luckily, before she got halfway across the room, Hermione remembered him and explained, "It's a locket we're looking for." She mimed the size and shape of the locket in midair. "There should be an snake shaped like 'S' on one side."

Harry didn't look pleased, but Hermione ignored him.

And so, they looked though all the compartments of the cabinets where Harry remembered they'd found the locket to begin with as well as behind them, but it wasn't all that long before it became apparent that, even if the locket had been in one of them at one time, it certainly wasn't there now.

"We got rid of so much that was in here," Hermione said fretfully as she checked through the cabinets near the wall furthest from the door for the fourth time. "We might have thrown it away."

"Yeah, really," said Ron gloomily. "We'll never find that locket... Well, maybe it wasn't _the_ locket," he said hopefully.

"We'll never know if we can't find it," Hermione said. If they'd thrown the locket away, it could anywhere by now. Even if the locket they had seen here wasn't the one they wanted, they couldn't know that until they laid hands on it and at the moment they had absolutely no other leads anyway.

Hermione glanced around at Yugi as he busily peered through the filthy glass of the cabinets on the other side of the room, nearer to the door, before looking back at Ron and saying in a low voice, "But the more I think about it, the more I think this locket can't be the one we're looking for. R.A.B. took the locket and intended to destroy it, right? So I just can't see how it would have ended up here."

Ron nodded and shrugged. "You never know, I guess." He looked over at Harry, who had stopped searching and was now sitting next to the wall nearby looking rather somber, and asked, "What do you think, Harry?"

But Harry just shook his head and gestured vaguely. They saw that Yugi was coming back toward them.

Ron and Hermione stopped talking and pretended to be completely focused on searching again.

The pharaoh had heard the sound of their voices and wondered if it meant they were planning on giving up or at least moving to another room, but they had turned silent again. He turned away in disappointment and went over to the curtains next to the cabinets he'd been searching a moment ago to try looking around them.

As Ron and Hermione quietly resumed their conversation about the locket and R.A.B., Harry silently got to his feet and went over to where the pharaoh was shaking the curtains out.

Harry knelt down and lifted the bottom ends of the curtains up so that they could look underneath them. Neither spoke for a moment until Harry said softly from where he was kneeling, so quiet that the pharaoh almost didn't catch it, "You don't know. You don't know what we're doing, or what's going on."

"True," the pharaoh answered, just as quietly. "I won't ask, but know that you're always free to tell me."

"I can't do that," Harry said firmly. He stood up straight and said, still staring at the curtains in front of him, "Listen, I appreciate you being worried about us and wanting to help us out. But... I'm sorry, but you can't help us. We know what we're doing, but there isn't anything you can do. You're only putting yourself and the rest of us at risk by being here." Harry hesitated for a moment, before he added, a bitter taste coming into his mouth. "You can't... _protect_ us, if that's what you think you're doing."

"Protect you?" said the pharaoh, bemused. "Who says I'm here to protect you? I'm just interested in fulfilling a common goal. Is it so hard to believe that two enemies of evil could be allies?"

Harry finally turned his head to look at the pharaoh, frowning. His lips barely moved when he spoke, "We can be allies. But you shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be following us around while we have things we need to do."

"Harry... I could assist you," said the pharaoh softly. He had figured they'd be somewhat annoyed with him if he forced them to let him come with them, but he couldn't understand why Harry hadn't given in yet. What did he mean by "putting yourself and us at risk"? Did Harry not trust him? It couldn't be that Harry was worried about his safety, not after what happened at the Room of Requirement.

"If we want to have a hope of victory, you have to know that we need to work together – " He then had a strong impulse to add something about the spirit of the Millennium Ring. Telling him everything might not be a good idea, especially if it made Harry think he was mentally unstable, but perhaps he could at least let them know that another threat beside Voldemort existed and he'd come with them mainly for that reason. However, before he had time to think of a way to put his thoughts into words, another voice cut their conversation short.

Just having come over from where he and Hermione had still been talking quietly, Ron asked, "Harry, could you come here for a second?"

"What? Have you found it?" Harry asked quickly.

"Er," said Ron, "no, not yet. We just wanted to ask you something."

Harry looked disappointed. "Oh... okay, just a minute."

As Ron went back to where Hermione stood next to the corner cabinet near to one of the tapestries, Harry gave the pharaoh one last look before following.

The pharaoh saw them whispering, their backs toward him. He sighed slightly, and turned his attention back to the curtains.

When Harry got over to Hermione and Ron, Hermione said in a low voice, "We know R.A.B. took the locket, right? Well, you don't think 'B' stood for – "

" –'Black,' do you?" Ron finished.

"I guess it could have," said Harry in surprise, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it earlier.

Hermione was already eagerly looking over the names on the tapestry next to them and Harry winced slightly as he said, "But even if it did, R.A.B. probably won't be on there. They disown anyone who doesn't look at muggles as lower-lifeforms and blow their names off, so someone who fought against Voldemort..." He let it hang.

Hermione looked disappointed and reluctantly pulled away from the tapestry.

More convinced than ever of the locket being the one they wanted, they doubled their search efforts, expanding from just the cabinets to other pieces of furniture and all over the floor, hoping that, perchance, the locket might have accidentally fallen out of the rubbish bag on the way out and accidentally kicked somewhere out of the way. They methodically opened and reopened all the drawers of the writing desk in the corner, pulled out all the cushions of the sofa, and looked under and behind every piece of furniture in the room, but they still came up empty-handed.

"It's hopeless," said Hermione flopping down on the sofa and looking defeated.

The pharaoh and Ron showed their agreement in their own ways, but Harry didn't want to give up yet. It had to be here. How could he be satisfied until he found out for sure whether or not it was the one?

His eyes scanned the entire room once again, even the ceiling and chandelier above. However, another thought came to him and wordlessly he started toward the door.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, tired, but Harry didn't answer.

Hermione and Ron shared a look and followed, leaving the pharaoh to follow behind them.

Harry went down to the main floor, then took another set of stairs that led down to the kitchen. As they reached the bottom of the steps, Harry called, "Kreacher, are you in here?"

The others arrived just in time to see the house elf in his usual loin cloth climbing out of his den underneath the sink. Before Kreacher had the chance to to ask Harry what he wanted, making it clear that he despised Harry and everything he did, and would much rather be the servant of a proper bigoted person, Harry said, "Kreacher, show us the stuff you put in there."

"Please," Hermione added, immediately seeing what Harry was thinking, though Ron looked confused and the pharaoh had given up trying to clue himself into anything that was happening.

Kreacher looked horrified and began to croak in pained protest, even as his body began to move toward the den, "Oh Mistress, forgive Kreacher! Now Kreacher's unworthy master has come to destroy the only possessions of his mistress that Kreacher was able to save – Oh, the wicked Potter-boy will burn them if Kreacher gives in – "

Kreacher started toward the far wall, no doubt to start banging his head against it, but Harry grabbed him and grimaced. The struggling, dirty little house elf was not the most pleasant thing in the world to hold. "We're not going to burn anything," he assured him, "we're just looking for something."

Kreacher stopped struggling and turned to glare at Harry. He didn't look as though he believed his master in the slightest and eyed him suspiciously.

Harry felt safe to let go of the elf now and he set him down. "Please," he said, the politeness coming a little grudgingly, "we're just looking for one thing in particular. We won't bother anything else."

Kreacher still didn't look pleased, but he couldn't refuse Harry's orders for long. It almost felt strange to Harry for him to have that much power over someone. Wrong, almost, though he decided never to mention the feeling to Hermione.

Kreacher, grumbling angrily to himself, turned away and began to drag every Black heirloom he had managed to salvage from the cleanup the summer before last from under the water tank in the cupboard.

Harry wasn't entirely surprised to see just how much junk Kreacher had gotten a hold of and couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a little as he caught sight of the gray-green mold that had begun to form on some of the objects. The unpleasant smell they gave off from being in such a dark, damp place for so long didn't do anything to soften the impression.

Harry hoped that Kreacher had perhaps saved the locket with the other things he'd managed to get a hold of. Before Kreacher had even finished bringing out everything in his stash, Harry began picking through the growing pile for the locket and the other three soon followed suit, though Ron didn't look anymore thrilled than Harry.

It took some time, but, to their disappointment, they eventually realized that Slytherin's locket must not have ended up in Kreacher's den after all. While one or two of the objects were lockets of a kind, Harry saw right away that they couldn't be the heavy locket with the large 'S' on the front that he remembered seeing both during the cleanup and in Dumbledore's pensieve.

"It really is hopeless," Hermione said again, shaking her head. "If it's not here... the things in that rubbish sack could have ended up about anywhere."

"Plus, Mundungus nicked some of the stuff that used to be here," Ron added.

Harry frowned when reminded of Mundungus' thievery once again. As always, it made his blood boil just to think about the grungy thief stealing from his dead godfather's house just to make a few extra galleons, and if he now had to add the fact that Mundungus may have swiped their only chance of locating one the horcruxes that they needed to destroy...

As they headed back upstairs to get away from Kreacher, who had by that time begun his mutterings about how it served them right for trying to get rid of all his mistress' things as he slowly began the process of re-hoarding the objects in his "room," Ron suggested, "Maybe the person who carried the sack downstairs accidentally dropped something."

"Or maybe Mundungus felt guilty after we ran into him at the Three Broomsticks and he brought the things he stole back," said Harry, almost sarcastically, but he was too tired to make it sound as biting as it might have.

Even though neither sounded plausible to the group, those were truthfully the the only hope they had at this point. So, after a little complaining from Ron, they diligently continued on with their search.

They looked all around the old hallway near the drawing room and examined each and every step that led down to the ground floor. They looked all around inside the entrance hall next, lifting up the umbrella stand and paying extra attention to cracks in the wall that could have been just large enough that a locket might have slid inside. Their spirits were only further dampened when the pharaoh looked behind the set a thick curtains in the entrance hall and ended up meeting Sirius' mother (whose lungs turned out to be just as powerful as Harry remembered) for the first time.

They went down to the kitchen, not only opening every cupboard and peering into every empty bowl, but even going so far as to search Kreacher's den themselves, despite Hermione's protests of it being an invasion of privacy.

Though their hopes were falling quickly now, they went back upstairs and picked through every room on the same floor as the drawing room. Just as they all made a move to go up to the next floor to search the room Ron and Harry had stayed in, more out of desperation than because they actually believed the locket might have ended up there, Hermione suggested they take a break. After all, even though they had little sense of real time in this dark, empty place, they all felt lunch drawing near by the grumbling in their stomachs. Gratefully, everyone agreed.

Rather than going all the way back down to the dining room downstairs, the group only went back to the drawing room to eat the food Hermione had packed, figuring they'd save themselves a trip. They ate in silence until Hermione said, "Well, I suppose we'd better search every room in the house, just to be safe. On the slim chance that Mundungus decided to bring it back here – if he was even the one who took it – we don't know what he might have done with it. Or if someone else got a hold of the locket and decided to hide it..."

"That'll take forever," Ron grumbled. "Let's just face it, Hermione – it's not here."

"Well, if something has been miraculously revealed to you that the rest of us don't know about and you have a better idea of where it might haven ended up, Ronald, then go ahead and tell us," Hermione snapped. "Why don't _you_ face the fact that if it's not here, then we'll probably never find it."

Harry wanted to tell them to be quiet, but said nothing as he gloomily reflected that there was a good chance that they were both right; their one lead was quickly turning into a dead end. It would have been one thing if they had found the locket and realized it wasn't the horcrux they were looking for after all, but it was so bitter to think he might have had his hands on it only a couple of years ago and had let it slip through his fingers.

Sighing, Harry turned away from Hermione and Ron, who were currently glaring in opposite directions, and his gaze fell on Yugi. Since the couch hadn't been large enough to seat four people, Yugi had insisted he be the one to sit on the floor nearby and had ignored the three's protests. Already finished eating, Yugi had gone to stand next to the grimy window Hermione had pulled the curtain back on earlier. Yugi looked thoughtful as he looked at the window, thinking about things Harry could only begin to guess.

For some reason, Harry felt himself again suspicious of Yugi's motives in coming with them. Yugi had some silly idea of protecting them – that was what Harry had decided. However, say Yugi _was_ a Death Eater spy and he found the locket before they did. Wouldn't he slip it into his pocket without telling them, then take it directly to Voldemort afterward? Could he have _already_ found it?

Harry reminded himself again of Yugi's role in the destruction of the first horcrux. Someone working for Voldemort wouldn't have done something like that, trying to win their trust or no, surely. True, Yugi had a rather odd demeanor, and his coming to Hogwarts had been shrouded in mystery, but Yugi couldn't possibly be an enemy.

However, it seemed as though fate was determined that Harry should not trust the first year Gryffindor, for at that moment Yugi reached into his pocket and began to play with something inside it. A chill shot up Harry's spine, all his senses immediately alert. '_It couldn't be,'_ he thought, trying to arrest his alarm before it could take control of him. '_But what if it __**is**__?'_ He couldn't stop himself from considering charging Yugi right that moment, grabbing the thing out of his pocket by force, but Harry forced himself to calm down and think rationally. That wouldn't be the most tactful way to find out what he needed to know. Instead, he climbed slowly to his feet as he tried to think of a better course of action.

He approached quietly so that Yugi didn't seem to notice him at first. Yugi's eyes had wandered down to his pocket and he looked worriedly at it, his hand rubbing whatever it was.

"What's that you have?" Harry asked as he got close enough to not be overheard by Hermione and Ron, who had long since started up their argument again, and Yugi jerked visibly in surprise. He yanked his hand out of his pocket and turned to look at Harry in, not alarm exactly, but at least a vague discomfort.

"Nothing really," he said, turning so that the pocket in question was away from Harry. "Just a trinket I carry around with me."

"Can I see it?" Harry asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I – " Yugi began, clearly not comfortable with the idea, but Hermione and Ron unwittingly came to the boy's rescue.

"Come on, we'd better start searching again," said Hermione. Apparently she and Ron had grown tired of arguing about the hopelessness of finding the locket.

Without a word, Yugi went on past Harry and followed Hermione and Ron out of the room. Harry frowned, unsure of what to do. If Yugi refused to show whatever he had in his pocket, should he tell Hermione and Ron, and then have them help him corner Yugi and force him to show? Should he do it now, or wait for a time when the shorter Gryffindor wouldn't expect it?

He followed them reluctantly up to the next floor where they continued their search. Though he was on fire with impatience, Harry decided he shouldn't do anything right away. He hated waiting like this, especially with the chance that something bad might happen in the meantime, but he tried to remind himself that he couldn't really be sure anything was actually wrong. He was only going on a hunch, and a hunch didn't warrant him to tackle Yugi to the ground and put a wand to his throat. Instead, he took to only observing Yugi closely during their search, often keeping him from doing much searching himself. He saw Yugi reach into his pocket several more times during the search, as though, Harry thought, to make sure whatever it was was still there.

No matter what he did, Harry could not drive the thought that the "trinket" might be the locket. Yugi could have found and stolen it during the first part of their search, before anyone was any the wiser. However, Yugi spoke little and Harry knew if he tried to tell Hermione or Ron, Yugi would be sure to hear every word they said in the smaller rooms. He was also reluctant to take them aside and talk to them privately, since, after he'd asked Yugi specifically what was in his pocket, Harry knew it wasn't inconceivable that Yugi was now watching him out of the corner of his eye as much as Harry watched him.

In any case, Harry didn't want to do anything not knowing how Yugi would react to being caught if his theory was right, so he decided that the best thing would be for him to catch Yugi off guard somehow, get him at wand point.

They searched Ginny and Hermione's old room, the room that had belonged to Fred and George, and even went all the way up to the place Buckbeak had stayed, but still they found nothing.

Ron and Hermione continued to get more and more discouraged, but Harry's new suspicion gave him a certain hope as much as it put him completely on edge.

"It's not here," said Hermione, shaking her head. "It's just not here."

"That's what I said three hours ago," Ron muttered as they walked slowly back down the stairs to the drawing room.

Hermione's face was downcast as she said, "I don't know where else we can look. It could be _anywhere_."

Harry saw Yugi's hand rustling around in his pocket again, the boy's exhausted expression showing hints of disappointment and irritation as well. Feeling impatient again, Harry slowly slid his hand into his own pocket, closing his fingers around his wand.

Hermione and Ron, oblivious, plowed on with their discussion.

"We must have really gotten rid of it," said Hermione. "But maybe there's still a chance we can find out where all those things got sent _to_."

"A big rubbish heap somewhere?" Ron guessed unenthusiastically.

Hermione ignored Ron and continued, "Mrs. Weasely would probably know or, if Mudungus really did happen to take it, we could find him. He might even still have it."

"Well yeah," Ron muttered sarcastically. "Let's spend the rest of our lives looking into a bunch of leads on a locket we _aren't even sure_ is the right one... How are we even supposed to find Dung anyway?"

Hermione disregarded the first part, but his question made her hesitate. "Well..." she began uncertainly.

Harry broke in unexpectedly, "We could probably just ask one of the Or – McGonagall or somebody, if we could find her. Mrs. Weasely might even know where he is." Though she probably wouldn't appreciate being asked all that much, as it concerned a person she was slightly less fond of than potion grime at the bottom of an old cauldron.

"And considering we good as ran away," said Ron, "Mum might not let us leave again if we went to visit her."

Hermione sighed. "We aren't getting anywhere with this. If we're even afraid of asking the people we know who might know something, we're never going to find it."

"We could try asking the Hogshead owner," Ron suggested, though didn't sound particularly convinced of any benefit in that either. "We saw him talking to Mundungus earlier – maybe he's a regular customer or something."

"Maybe," said Hermione, equally uncertain.

The discussion lapsed into a long, oppressive silence in which Hermione and Ron stared dejectedly at the floor while Yugi continued to play with whatever it was in his pocket. Harry watched him out of the corner of his eye.

"Well," said Hermione finally, climbing slowly to her feet. "I suppose that's as good as anywhere to start. What do you think, Harry?"

"What?" said Harry, looking away from Yugi. After making his own contribution, he'd tuned out of their conversation and let his head return to his own thoughts again. "Er, what do you mean?"

"We were talking about going to Hogsmeade," she repeated, giving him a slightly disapproving look.

"Uh, sure," said Harry, becoming distracted again as he saw Yugi withdraw his hand from his pocket, a rather unhappy look on the boy's face. "Why are we going there again?"

Frowning, Hermione answered, "Because we saw Mundungus with the Hogshead owner awhile back, don't you remember? And we thought there might be a chance... Are you listening, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, forcing himself to look back at Hermione. "Yeah, I remember that. Sounds like a good idea to me." It didn't much matter to Harry where they went so long as he would have an opportunity to get the upper hand over Yugi to find out the truth for certain.

The three boys got up and followed Hermione down the hall to the staircase. As they crept carefully past the heavy, tattered curtains in the entrance hall, they made their way toward the iron door which guarded the entrance of what had once been the Noble House of Black, the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and Sirius' home. Harry looked at the peeling wallpaper, and felt that the place not only made him see the loneliness he'd felt since the end of his fifth year, but now it made him realize that it may someday represent his failure to Dumbledore as well, if he could not secure the horcrux locket.

Reaching into his pocket, Harry balled his fist around the fake locket Dumbledore had given his life to obtain and swore to himself that he wouldn't fail.

As they reached the end of the hall and the chains securing the door slid off over the iron like snakes, he turned back and took one last look at the entrance hall. The old gas lamps lining the way went out one by one, throwing the place into temporary darkness. Shuddering, Harry turned back to look at the door again as it started to open. Without meaning to, he glanced at Yugi and was startled to see Yugi staring back at him, the boy's expression unfathomable.

"I'm sure we'll find it," said Yugi in a low voice.

"Yeah," said Harry, not breaking away from Yugi's gaze. "I'm sure we will." Harry tilted his head back to look up at the bright blue sky which could now be seen through the open door of the old house and silently hoped that number twelve Grimmauld Place was a place to which he never returned.

...O

The spirit leaned over the empty basin, a murderous expression on his face. The invisible Diabound, which had served as something of a boat in sludging its way to the tiny island and now hovered over him as a kind of shield from the pale horrors clumsily trying to make their way out of the dark waters, seemed to vibrate with its master's anger.

"Voldemort, you blundering fool," the spirit hissed, his head bowed. His golden eye sifted through the thoughts and knowledge of the Dark Lord once again, still only finding that, as far as the snake-like man knew, the locket still rested within the basin at the center of this cave.

"Is it destroyed then or isn't it?" said the spirit, his fingers closing tightly around the edges of the dark stone. A vague doubt about his plans entered his mind for the first time. He closed his eye for a moment, allowing himself time to become completely calm again so he could think clearly.

There could be any number of explanations for what had happened to the locket. Dumbledore had known of the existence of the locket and the other objects, and had planned to have them destroyed, but as far as the spirit knew, Dumbledore had only managed to find one and that had been before the school year had even started. The last time the spirit had checked, the headmaster had only had vague ideas as to the locations of the others.

However, the spirit had to admit that it wasn't as though he had kept constant tabs on every part of that expansive mind. It wasn't so far-fetched to think that Dumbledore could have come to the cave and destroyed it between the last time the spirit had scanned his mind and the time he'd died.

At this thought, the spirit relaxed. If Dumbledore had come here, then the locket was surely destroyed – Voldemort was rather pathetic, compared to what the man _thought_ he was, and equally so compared to his rival, Albus Dumbledore. Now that the man was dead and out of the way, the spirit did not mind admitting as much.

The spirit smirked, staring down at his reflection in the eerie silver-green water of the basin. But then his face shifted slowly, taking on a more pensive expression.

_'But how can I be certain that that's how it happened?' _The only person who would have been likely to know was dead. The spirit closed his eye.

Everyone... He would know the thoughts of everyone in Dumbledore's little group of followers who called themselves "The Order of the Phoenix." Distance could not protect them; the spirit could move as easily through their minds as if they had been standing right next to him on this small rock of an island. Yes, all the teachers of Hogwarts, and of everyone else who associated with Dumbledore, he would look into their minds for something of value. McGonagall, the Weaselys, the werewolf Lupin who'd taught Defense Against the Dark Arts four years ago, the old one called "Mad-Eye Moody," the Potions Master, the Charms Professor, the Potter boy...

The spirit stopped, the thoughts of the last one catching his attention. A momentary feeling of surprise found him as he absorbed the new information, but he quickly waved the feeling away, allowing his mind to calculate what would be the best next step.

The spirit knew he could have avoided a great deal of effort if he'd been more careful to look into Potter's thoughts before, but he had not expected that the information he received from the Dark Lord's mind would be wrong. But there was no point worrying about it now.

The Potter boy's mind contained several vague ideas as to the location of the locket. Though the spirit highly doubted it had come into the place that Harry seemed to think, the other ideas could be useful. However, if Harry and his motley crew searched every place it might have ended up, it would likely take weeks to even just track down some of the people to get the information they wanted. Plus, they seemed rather hesitant to ask anyone anything at all, since it could possibly result in a limitation to their movement.

The spirit had, by this time, grown impatient for this game of 'search and destroy' to end, so that he could get on to the _real_ game. Closing his eye, his own mind moved stealthily forward on its way to infiltrate the mind of another.

_'Mundungus Fletcher... Let us see if you've hidden away some useful information, the same way you hide away your ill-gotten goods.'_

"_**Even I have ways I like to win and ways I hate to win."**_

There, a monster of a chapter. Well... a monster for me, anyway. Can't promise that the next chapter will be any sooner, but it will come... eventually.

Thank you for reading and for all your reviews!

Posted 7/8/10, re-edited a little 9/10/11


	39. The Locket

UMMM... I'm so sorry this has been so long in coming. My only excuse is that I when I went back to reread this fic to remind myself what was going on, I couldn't stop myself from doing a lot of revising, and naturally that took forever. I also don't have the same level of interest in either Yugioh or Harry Potter either that I used to, seeing as how both series are over now, so it's hard to get myself to work on this. And the average chapter length has grown so long, it's a little daunting... I've also been working a ton on a fanfiction in another section (Artemis Fowl! :D), which I'll probably start posting on on this site before the end of the year.

However, that being said, I still have no intention of leaving this fic incomplete. There's still a little over ten chapters left to go, but I'm going to try hard to finish them, even if that means letting go a bit on my recent penchant for reading the same chapter clear through ten times to make sure its pretty well proofread and flows the best that I can make it. (I get the feeling I'm psyching myself out here XD)

Again, I'm really sorry about the incredibly slow updates. Probably most everyone who was reading this fic when I first started has dropped out by now... But I'll still keep going for any of you new readers out there and anyone who happens to be like me, and has certain fics they still check for updates even after five+ years. XD

**-39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 -39 **

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. I don't own the quotes at the end either.

Chapter 39: The Locket

Dust blew wistfully down the deserted street of the near-empty wizarding town. In the dark shadows of one of its abandoned pubs, a figure in a long black trench coat stood, swinging a small metal object by its chain, catching it in his hand before letting it fall again. He stopped playing with it for a moment however, holding it out so that the dim afternoon light coming through the old windows caught the object for the first time. The light threw into sharp relief the deep grooves on its surface which, upon closer inspection, formed the image of a snake wrapping around a large letter 'S'.

Smirking, the man let the locket fall again and swung it up into his hand again. "Come quickly, my little friends. You can't imagine how impatient I am to see you all again..."

* * *

_Crack_.

Four figures appeared in the late afternoon gloom of the small, nearly deserted town of Hogsmeade.

"We'd better go," said Harry. But as the group turned toward the old pub where they had once held their very first DA meeting in their fifth year, their hearts sank.

The Hogshead's grimy door had had boards nailed over top of it. An old rotting piece of wood had been hung over the pub sign that had the word 'Closed' carved into its surface. The Hogshead wasn't the only one – every single shop along the street of the once bustling little village looked just as abandoned.

"Well, what now?" said Ron. "Doesn't look like anyone's here..."

"I guess none of the businesses here could pull through," said Hermione fretfully. "I mean, with the Three Broomsticks having to close when Rosmerta had to go to St. Mungo's and then with Hogwarts closing on top of that..." She sighed. "But I suppose we might as well go take a look anyway." She didn't sound particularly hopeful.

"Mm," Harry agreed absently. He was too busy watching Yugi out of the corner of his eye to give the others his full attention.

They approached the closed-up shop cautiously. As they reached the door, they all hesitated, glancing at one another.

"Should we...?" said Hermione doubtfully.

"Yeah," said Harry, this time with more vigor. The three former Hogwarts sixth years pointed their wands at the wooden boards. An explosion of light issued from the wands, temporarily lighting up the dreary town, and the boards were no longer a problem. Instead of going in right away however, Ron and Hermione held back for a moment, uncertain.

Harry however, fully expecting not to find much of anything grew impatient and pried what little remained of the boards away from the doors before striding on in.

Inside, he found the abandoned pub dark. Though in some places the afternoon light streamed in through grimy windows, dimly illuminating parts of the tables and counter, everything else remained in shadow. The darkness gave the place an even more foreboding atmosphere than it had in its prime when it had played host to various shady characters.

Without waiting for his eyes to fully adjust, he went on farther into the old pub, following the path of light the open door made. He turned, looking over at an area of the pub which he recognized as the very place where the members of "Dumbledore's Army," though still not officially named at the time, had been sitting as they listened to Harry talk about what it was like to face Voldemort.

_Plip_.

Harry stopped as he heard the sound of a drop of water fall to the floor behind him. However, it wasn't the sound of dripping water that really made him freeze up, but the steady sound of quiet breathing within the shadows.

"Ron?" Harry asked, but as he turned his head a little, he saw that his three companions were all still back by the door, looking at each other and examining the area around it as though still reluctant to come all the way in. They weren't looking at Harry or the mysterious person – or whatever it was – standing by the counter. They wouldn't be able to get there in time to be of any help, even if he called out.

Harry didn't move. There was nothing he could do – the person could have a wand at his back for all he knew. Harry kept expecting to hear cold whispered instructions in his ear any moment, but the stranger didn't seem to have moved. Maybe he hadn't realized Harry had noticed him yet and was still waiting for the right moment to alert Harry to his presence.

But then it occurred to Harry that maybe he was just being paranoid. Couldn't this person simply be the Hogshead owner they wanted to talk to? Harry turned around...

And jumped back against the table behind him in horror, reaching for his wand.

Slimy white skin gleamed back at him in the darkness and Harry thought he could see at least one dead eye staring back at him as well. An inferi...!

However, before Harry had a chance to draw his wand, the pale creature stepped into the light and said, smiling, "Hello, Harry. Fancy meeting you here of all places."

Harry stopped, his brain going completely blank for half a second. Then he recognized the face and cried in surprise, "Bakura!"

All three of his companions still lingering by the door turned to look.

His long white hair glimmering in the afternoon light, his pale face smiling warmly, Bakura turned to the group and said, "Hello everyone."

"Bakura...?" said Yugi cautiously, coming slowly forward.

"It is you," said Hermione, looking just as taken aback as Harry. "Ryou Bakura. What are you doing here?" She came forward quickly, looking from Harry to Bakura. Ron held back for a moment, looking suspicious, before he reluctantly followed.

Before Bakura had a chance to reply, Hermione suddenly commented in surprise, "Oh Ryou, you're soaking wet!"

"What sort of robes are those?" Ron added, eying the trench coat. He may not have known much about muggle clothes, but apparently even he could pick out blatantly suspicious attire.

Bakura chose not to reply to either of these comments however and, turning to Hermione, his smile faded into a more grave expression. "What am I doing here?" he repeated. "Well, the fact of the matter is, I needed to speak with you all – I think it's time I told you the truth."

Only Yugi had remained by the door, his face a mask of caution as he watched the boy a bit uneasily.

"What truth?" Harry asked.

"The truth is..." Bakura began, but trailed off uncertainly. He closed his eye and took a deep breath. When he opened it again, his single wide brown eye met Harry's gaze steadily. He continued, "The truth is, I know what it is you're trying to do. But you're never going to succeed without help."

"How do you know?" Harry asked swiftly. Then, forcing his voice to sound more even, he added, "I mean, what is it you think you know?"

"I know that you're looking for those objects of Voldemort's," said Bakura slowly, as though carefully weighing each word. "The _horcruxes_."

Behind him, Harry heard Hermione's breath catch, though she suppressed it a moment later, and Ron swore quietly.

Back by the door, the pharaoh watched the scene carefully, taking in Bakura's words and judging the others' reactions. Horcruxes, was it? What did the spirit know that he didn't?

The pharaoh narrowed his eyes, studying the face of the white-haired teen in front of him. Everything about him... his nervousness, his slight diffident smile, the soft, but also somehow determined look in his eye – they all were exactly like the real Bakura, not the spirit. But the pharaoh knew that that couldn't be. The spirit was putting up an act, as he always did. The pharaoh felt a flicker of foreboding.

Without thinking, the pharaoh slid his hand into his pocket, running his fingers over the Millennium Necklace, wishing that it would somehow give him the answers.

Harry, however, didn't react to Bakura's bold words. "I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry coolly, but the pharaoh took note of the way Hermione and Ron exchanged quick looks and glance back nervously in their shorter Gryffindor friend's direction.

"Harry, I know what you must be thinking," said Bakura softly, pleadingly. "You think I'm worthless and that I couldn't be of any good to you. It's true – I'm _not_ a very good wizard, but I can still help you stop him."

The pharaoh gritted his teeth behind him closed mouth.

"Er," said Harry, taken aback. He could honestly say that Bakura's ill-adept wand work had been the last thing on his mind. "No," said Harry. "I just don't know what you're talking about."

Dumbledore had told Harry not to tell anyone besides Hermione and Ron about the horcruxes. Their mission was supposed to be of the utmost secrecy. Yugi had insisted on following them, but Harry had had no intention of telling Yugi anything, and the same was true for Bakura. Considering what Harry was certain lay in Yugi's pocket, he thought his decision concerning Yugi would turn out to be a right one, so it made sense to stick to Dumbledore's orders. No one else could know, and Harry was determined not to tell Bakura anything or get him involved in the danger the three of them now faced any further.

"You can't hide this from me," said Bakura as though he'd read Harry's thoughts. "I already know all about it. In fact... it was Dumbledore who told me."

Harry involuntarily reacted to this. "What?" he demanded. "What do you mean?"

"I don't believe you," said Hermione cautiously.

"He's lying," said Ron, trying to sound scathing.

Hermione and Ron might have been inclined to believe their own words – except if they were being honest with themselves, they couldn't account for how Bakura knew about the horcruxes. Hardly anyone even knew that such a word had any meaning.

Harry wasn't ready to give in just yet, however. The chance that Bakura had somehow learned of the word accidentally and was only trying to trick them into giving him more information was still there and Harry wasn't about to give anything away.

"Dumbledore told you we were after these hor-whatevers, did he?" Harry stared at Bakura. "But Dumbledore wouldn't lie, so Ron's right – Sorry, but then that means you must be the one that's lying. We really have no idea what you're talking about."

Bakura closed his single eye, looking a little sad. "No, he wouldn't. I know your intentions are good, but you must believe me. Dumbledore wanted me to help you... I have a skill that could be of great use to you."

"Whatever you say," said Ron with just a touch of sarcasm, playing along with Harry. "I mean, what are these horcrux-things anyway?"

"You know what they are," said Bakura, and his eye flickered back to Yugi for the briefest moment. "They are containers which hold pieces of a person's soul."

Harry stiffened and glanced back at Yugi, but realized it probably wasn't much use. Once he'd heard the word 'horcrux', he already knew too much.

Harry saw Yugi's eyes narrow ever so slightly in thought and he mouthed the words 's_oul containers._' Then his eyes slowly moved downward, as though studying something at his own feet very hard, before his gaze flickered to Harry for the briefest moment, then going back to Bakura.

Instead of allowing the three time to reply, Bakura continued, "You have to believe me. Professor Dumbledore told me everything, and I... I must convince you that he did. For instance – " He stopped, hesitating a second, then plowed on, "I know that the injury on his arm was caused by a horcrux. Professor Dumbledore has also told me he was having secret meetings with you, Harry, to tell you a little about Voldemort's background. He wouldn't give me any details, but..."

Startled, Harry struggled to keep his expression blank. It couldn't be possible, and yet, perhaps it was. Harry took a moment to study Bakura's face before, taking a chance, he asked, "If Dumbledore really told you everything and wanted you to help us, then why didn't he tell _us_? Why did he keep it a secret?"

Bakura looked guiltily at the ground. "Well, when he called me into his office and told me all this, it was a few months before Professor Dumbledore – " Bakura hesitated, his voice catching slightly, then said instead, "before the end of the year..." He continued on, however, despite the sadness in his face, "He told me about the horcruxes, and said that I could help you. He said I had skills that you could use." Bakura's fists shook at his sides with suppressed emotion.

"But I... I was afraid. I didn't want to get mixed up in something where this Lord Voldemort would be trying to kill me. I may not be good at much of anything, but I was still afraid of dying. Professor Dumbledore was so kind, and told me it was entirely my own choice – it was something I had to decide to do myself and no one could or would force me. The Headmaster probably didn't tell you because he didn't want me to go in half-willing, because – because – " His voice broke again and he whispered the last words. "I felt pressured..." Bakura bit his lip, which trembled ever so slightly.

"It's not a crime to be afraid," said Hermione gently.

Bakura shook his head to regain himself. He continued in a steady voice, "That's why I didn't come to your brother's wedding, Ron. I... I didn't want to face any of you. I mean, I didn't feel so bad about it at first, because I figured that even if I did try to help, I'd just end up messing up and throwing my life away for no reason. But when Professor Dumbledore was... I mean, I felt like I was being a coward. I should be willing to put my life on the line to protect people too, like you're all doing now."

"It's all right," said Harry quietly. "You don't have to. We'll take care of things, Bakura. Everything will be fine."

Bakura smiled sadly. "You know something, Harry?" he said softly. "Ever since I first went to Hogwarts, I wondered why I was put in Slytherin. All of my roommates had so much ambition and had even some measure of cunning, a _slyness_ about them. They hated Gryffindors and enjoyed banning together to gang up on people they didn't like. But I never fit in with them. I told you before that I wasn't an accepted member of Slytherin, didn't I? Well, it's more true than you know; I was an outcast from the start.

"But over the course of the year I began to wonder. _Maybe I'm not so different from them after all_, I realized. I'm a coward – I would put my own life before the well-being of others. But I... I don't want to be like that. The truth is, I wished I'd been put in Gryffindor like you, Harry."

Harry didn't know what to say and the rest of them didn't say anything either. It was too unexpected to know how to react.

The pharaoh stared at Bakura, not sure what to think. It had to be the spirit talking, but was what he said about Dumbledore telling him about Harry's mission true? Now the pharaoh was more confused than ever. He reached into his pocket again.

Harry sighed in defeat. "What sort of skill do you have that Dumbledore thought would be such a great help to us?" he asked.

Bakura smiled, but then paused, staring back behind them at something near the door.

"What is it?" Harry asked as they all turned to see what Bakura was looking at.

"Yugi," said Bakura, softly as though in fear of something he already knew. "What is that you have in your pocket?"

"What?" said the pharaoh, startled by the question. He yanked his hand back out a little too quickly. "Nothing." He stared at Bakura's face intently, trying to decipher what the spirit could be up to.

"Yeah, show us," said Harry, turning his body completely around to face the shorter Gryffindor, sensing the time had come. It was now or never. "What do you have?"

"Nothing," said the pharaoh lamely, unable to come up with a good lie on the spur of the moment. It probably wouldn't hurt for them to see the Millennium Item, but his instinct was to keep it hidden. Seeing it may spur questions he wasn't sure he wanted to answer at the moment.

He also knew there existed the chance that they would recognize it as a magical item and demand he tell them what it was and what it did. Then what would he say? But he couldn't understand what the spirit meant to gain by drawing attention to it, unless he meant Harry and the others to try to take the item away from him, thinking it to be a dark magical object of some kind, which it probably was. "Why do you ask?" the pharaoh added.

"Well," Bakura began, "you've just kept fidgeting and reaching into your pocket the whole time you've been here."

The pharaoh didn't like the look on Bakura's pale face – the slight frown, as though he had a bad feeling about something. Harry and the others were all staring at the pharaoh intently. "Is there a problem with that?" the pharaoh asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, what's going on?" asked Hermione, and Ron looked just as puzzled.

"Let's see it," said Harry, watching carefully Yugi's every twitch and breath.

"It's nothing – " the pharaoh repeated. "Just a good luck charm." He knew he was only making things worse and so, deciding reluctantly to relent, he started to move his hand toward the compartment in his robe. After all, they already saw his Millennium Puzzle on a daily basis, so he didn't know what the harm could be. Only the spirit's wanting them to see it so much was enough to make him nervous.

"What kind of good luck charm?" Harry pressed.

Bakura walked past Harry and moved closer to the small Gryffindor standing by the door.

"Yugi..." Bakura began, but suddenly sprung forward.

The pharaoh had no time to react before he felt Bakura's slip inside the cloth pocket of his robes. "Hey!" the pharaoh cried as his fingers grasped at the lining that had contained the Millennium Necklace, but felt only air. But by that time, Bakura had stepped back and tossed something to Harry.

Harry caught it and held it up by its chain in the fading afternoon light streaming in through the doorway.

"I knew it," Harry said softly and for a moment the pharaoh was completely and utterly confused.

What dangled from Harry's hand in the light from the door was not the Millennium Eye-shape of the Millennium Necklace, but an ovular one that looked more like a teardrop. The pharaoh caught sight of a large 'S' with a snake coiling around it on the front of it.

"Yugi..." said Bakura sadly, with the tone of a disappointed parent.

"What...? I can't believe it..." said Hermione in disbelief.

"Why you..." Ron snarled, fixing the pharaoh with a look of fury.

But the pharaoh was still trying to make sense of what had happened. What had happened to the Millennium Necklace?

"You had it all along?" Hermione asked. "But... why didn't you say anything?"

And then it suddenly clicked. It was the locket they'd been looking for – the realization of the position he was suddenly finding himself in at last dawned on him. Several choice words that had Jonouchi had taught him occurred to him just then, but he resisted the urge to say them and simply stayed silent as he tried to figure out what to do.

"He's working for Voldemort," Harry told Hermione harshly, not taking his eyes off Yugi. The former Gryffindor Quidditch captain's wand was out and he now had it leveled at his former friend. "He found the locket before us and was planning to take it back to Voldemort as soon as he got the chance."

"Wait," said the pharaoh, his voice thick. Everything was happening too quickly. "I didn't – This isn't what it – " He searched for the right thing to say. But what _could_ he say? "It's a trick"? "I've been set up"? The trick had been too good, the set up too thorough. They weren't going to believe him.

He glanced up at the horrified and angry faces of his fellow Gryffindors and noticed that Bakura had moved off to one side, back into the darkness of the room. The pharaoh looked around at them vaguely, his circumstances still seeming too incredible to believe just yet. He finally came out of his stunned stupor when, as his gaze drifted back to Bakura once again, he saw the Slytherin's worried and hurt expression flicker for a moment, replaced by a sly grin. His single eyes seemed almost to say, _"Got you."_

The unreal world was suddenly very real and, so furious he couldn't speak, the pharaoh took one staggering step toward the spirit, whose expression had gone back to looking like the sort of expression the real Bakura would wear.

"Don't move," Harry warned, holding his wand up higher and both Hermione and Ron held their wands up too.

The pharaoh realized that what he was doing now was the worst possible move he could make and it was probably what the spirit wanted. He forced himself to straighten up and made his expression as calm as he could. "Harry," he said making his tone as reasonable as he could make it.

"I should've know something was wrong when you were so insistent on coming with us, when you shouldn't have even known what we were doing. Now I know..." Harry clenched the locket tightly in his fist, his knuckles white.

"You don't understand," the pharaoh said, almost pleadingly, even knowing the uselessness of it.

"No, we understand perfectly," said Harry.

"What are we going to do with him?" Ron asked.

"Take his wand," Harry said immediately. He thought a moment and then said, "we can knock him out and tie him up. I don't know how long that will keep him here though. We could mess up his senses with a spell... Or maybe it would be better to put something longer lasting on him, like a memory charm and just make him forget about us."

"Memory charms sure are tricky, but I guess it doesn't have to be perfect," said Ron, so angry that he could barely keep his voice even. "If he loses his whole memory, it won't matter much will it?"

Harry felt a momentary pang in his conscience, but remembering Yugi's likely intention of handing them over to Voldemort, he found himself rather liking Ron's plan.

Hermione stayed quiet, staring at Yugi sadly. Of their trio, she had been the one to get along the best with the smaller boy.

Ron and Harry took a step closer, and the pharaoh grimaced, not liking the place this was going.

However, just before they called out any incapacitating spells they were planning to cast on the shorter Gryffindor, a voice cried, "_Wait!_"

Bakura had jumped between Harry and Ron and their soon would-be victim. "Wait a moment," he said softly, panting a little.

"What are you doing, Bakura?" Harry asked, frowning. "We can't let a servant of Voldemort come with us."

"I know," said Bakura, looking right into Harry's eyes. "But he's not a servant of Voldemort. I know he's not – he's my friend."

For a moment, the pharaoh was almost certain that Bakura had broken through the spirit's control to tell the truth. Bakura would tell them everything – he would make everything clear at last... But this hope was shattered by the white-haired boy's next few words.

"Yugi may love causing mischief... and he may have no qualms about stealing things and letting others get in trouble for what he does... and tricking everyone into thinking he's innocent, but I know for a fact he would never team up with an evil lord who's murders people."

"Oh Ryou," Hermione murmured.

"How would you know?" Harry asked. "You may be his friend, but you haven't even known him for as long as we have, and no one at Hogwarts has known him for even a year."

"Actually... Yugi and I have known each other longer than that," said Bakura timidly. "We knew each other before we ever came to Hogwarts. I'm naturally British, but my current residence is in Japan."

Harry raised his eyebrows a little. This was certainly a new twist. "That still doesn't mean you can say for sure he wouldn't be working for Voldemort. In fact, you can know someone practically your whole life and still not be able to say for sure what they would and wouldn't do." Harry thought of Dumbledore's trust in Snape.

"But Yugi and I didn't even know about magic until this year," said Bakura. He hesitated. "And besides, there are some other things that don't make sense if he was working for Voldemort."

Harry's scowl deepened, but he sighed, mentally resigning himself to hearing Bakura out at least. "Like what?" he asked stiffly.

"Like, if he wanted to take the locket back to Voldemort, why didn't he just Apparate straight to his master instead of coming along with you to Hogsmeade and risk losing it?"

"Maybe he wanted to see if we'd get a hold of another one," Harry said. "Or he wanted to lure us to Voldemort."

"But in coming here, you were still looking for the locket which he already had in his possession," Bakura pointed out. "Why risk losing it? And why would he bother to lead you to this Voldemort when if he was really working for him, he could have just called Voldemort's followers here to take it with far less danger of losing you? No, Yugi is more the type to take something like that locket you have there without realizing its true worth and hope to sell it later. He came along with you because he was curious, most likely. He likes adventure... I admit, he's not so afraid of dying when there's fun to be had, unlike me."

"Really?" said Hermione, glancing at Yugi hopefully. It wasn't great to find out your friend was a dishonest thief, but it was better than finding out he was a conspirator for world conquest and one of your greatest enemies. "And he helped us destroy Ravenclaw's tiara, too," she added, suddenly remembering. "Why would someone who was working for Voldemort do that?"

"It could have been a fake... they could have set that whole thing up to trick us," said Harry, though even he had to admit it didn't sound all that plausible when put into words.

The pharaoh was too unsure at what the spirit's goal could be in framing him, then coming to his rescue right afterward, to venture saying anything.

Harry glared at Yugi, but couldn't deny the truth of what Bakura said. If Yugi's goal had been to give the locket to Voldemort, he ought to have already gone to him. Harry had been so busy worrying that Yugi would try to attack them if Harry tried to challenge him about the locket, he hadn't even considered the possibility of Yugi avoiding a fight entirely and sneaking away. But that was what would have made the most sense.

"We might as well all go together," said Bakura, looking at each in the group in turn.

Harry frowned and shot a look at Yugi. He still wasn't so sure.

"Go?" said Ron in confusion. "Go where?"

"To the next horcrux," said Bakura matter-of-factly, "of course."

"But we haven't even destroyed the one we just got," Ron groused.

"And we haven't had any more clues as to where the next one is," Hermione added.

"Let's worry about the locket a little later," said Bakura. "As for the location, just leave that to me."

"You know where another one is?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I believe I do," said Bakura. "It's my best guess anyway."

The pharaoh meanwhile, continued to stare at the spirit in confusion, still utterly stumped. It appeared that the spirit had done something completely pointless, but why would he be wasting his time on things that had no meaning? Perhaps he'd gotten bored, or he suffered under the delusion that the pharaoh would feel he now owed the spirit something.

Or maybe he just wanted to mess around in the pharaoh's head and thoroughly confuse him. If that was it, the spirit's plan was proceeding rather well.

"Follow me," said Bakura as he started toward the open door.

"Wait a minute," said Harry, glancing once again in Yugi's direction. "I don't know if he should..." He trailed off.

Bakura smiled one of his characteristic gentle smiles. "It'll be all right, Harry. We could use his help."

Harry looked back at Yugi with suspicious eyes, then started reluctantly toward the door as well. Bakura motioned the rest of them forward and Ron and Hermione followed after Harry, going out into the street.

The pharaoh was about to follow as well, but the spirit standing behind him at that moment leaned in close and murmured in his ear, _"Don't bother trying to interfere with me now. It won't do any good."_ The hair on the back of the pharaoh's neck stood on end as he felt the spirit's cold breath, and could just imagine his smirk.

"What do you mean?" the pharaoh said out of the corner of his mouth, but the spirit didn't reply. "What did you do with the Millennium Necklace?" the pharaoh asked, reaching into his empty pocket to feel for it one more time.

The spirit let out a low '_Heh_' that made the pharaoh stiffen and the spirit sneered in low voice, "Try checking your _other_ pocket." The spirit moved swiftly past him as the pharaoh, furious, jammed his hand into his pocket on the opposite side of his robes and found that the Millennium Item was indeed there.

"Hey Yugi, what are you doing?" yelled Ron from outside the building. "Hurry up!"

Gritting his teeth, he attempted to swallow his aggravation and went on outside.

"Okay, we're all here aren't we?" said Bakura. He glanced over at the horizon, seeing the falling sun in the distance, before turning back to them.

"Where exactly are we going?" asked Ron.

Bakura smile was kind and gentle as always. However, Harry had a momentary thought that the way the fading light fell on Bakura's face made him look a little creepy all the same; however, he quickly pushed it from his mind.

"If we don't know what the place looks like, I don't think we'll be able to get there," said Hermione, her eyebrows knitting.

"Don't worry," Bakura said reassuringly. "I'm sure that won't be a problem. Actually, I think you're quite familiar with our next stop... After all, don't you have to get money for supplies there every year?"

"_**The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."**_

Another long chapter... though nothing like the last one. To be honest, I've had this completed for ages, but I always like to go back and reread chapters after a long time has passed to get a fresh view on them, so I can make them the best I can. X3

Oh yes, and remember, Bakura's British for this fic... although he isn't actually in the manga, as far as a I know. It worked out better that way.

Ah, another note. If you got through all the chapters, you'll probably notice some of the quotes are underlined, some aren't. That's because it seems that editing and saving documents in the document manager on this site for some reason deletes the underline... Must be a glitch of some kind. I can't seem to change it though, so it'll have to just stay the way it is.

Anyway, please r and r and tell me what you thought of the latest development. (:

posted 9/10/11 (You may have noticed the copious amounts of dates appearing everywhere all of a sudden; they are mainly for my benefit, because I'm a bit of a dating freak and like to date everything I work on and know when I worked on things. Normally I would try to delete those out before I post, but with forty chapters going up at once, I was too lazy...)


	40. Enter Stranger

**-40 -40 -40 -40-40 -40 -40 -40-40 -40 -40 -40-40 -40 -40 -40-40 -40 -40 -40-40 -40 -40 -40**

Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or Harry Potter; they belong to Kazuki Takahashi and JK Rowling respectively. The Gringott's poem at the beginning of this chapter also isn't mine. I don't own the quotes at the end either.

Chapter 40: Enter, Stranger

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
__Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
__For those who take, but do not earn,  
__Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
__So if you seek beneath our floors  
__A treasure that was never yours,  
__Thief, you have been warned, beware  
__Of finding more than treasure there._

The plaque Harry knew hung just inside the doors of Gringotts never appeared more threatening than it did at this moment. Not once, in all his years of going to the greatest of all wizarding banks, withdrawing the galleons and sickles his parents had left him, had Harry ever guessed that someday he'd be going in as an uninvited guest.

"All right," said Ron, "I say we stand in line and then, once we get down there, we knock out the goblin who's supposed to guide us – "

"And then how would we find where we were going?" Hermione asked in exasperation.

Bakura shook his head and spoke up in his soft voice, but somehow was managing to sound a little more authoritative than usual, "Finding what we're looking for won't be the problem. Please, just leave that to me." He ignored, or perhaps just didn't notice, the slightly skeptical looks the veteran Hogwarts students gave him, and continued. "However... if we're too hasty or don't think through our actions carefully enough, then sooner or later it'll bring a swarm of angry goblin guards down on our heads. But, as it stands now, that can be avoided."

"Then _how_?" Ron demanded in slightly impatient tones.

A smiled flickered across Bakura's face, and moving silently into the darkest part of the shadows, he motioned for them to follow.

Tentatively, the three previous Hogwarts' sixth years followed and, after a moment of hesitation, Yugi followed as well.

"Like I said, Dumbledore knew I would be a big help to you. In fact, I've already arranged a foolproof way of getting in."

Harry glanced around at the others and he noticed Yugi looking particularly apprehensive.

"Don't worry, you're perfectly safe," said Bakura softly to the four people standing around him. "Trust me."

The gloom kept the others from seeing the pharaoh's frown deepen. _'Said the spider to the fly,'_ he thought, the spirit's calming words doing more to unsettle him than any open threat could ever have. He had half a mind to warn Harry and the others about the spirit, but somehow he knew it wouldn't do him any good. They weren't about to believe him after what had happened just a little while ago.

"What do you – " Ron started to ask, but he suddenly cut himself off, turning deathly pale.

"What?" Harry asked and all Ron could do was point at something just over Harry's shoulder. Before he could turn around to see what it was however, he felt something that felt oddly like a giant hand seize him around the torso and he was dragged violently downward into the cobbled stone below him. The failing light of the evening sun suddenly vanished from sight and Harry's first dazed thought was, _'But we haven't even broken in yet.'_

* * *

Miles away, Malik Ishtar stepped out of the airport and onto the streets of London. Rubbing one of his tired eyes, he looked around blearily. His head pounded, and Malik reflected dimly that flying was definitely not high on his list of favorable transportation methods. Having a meat locker for an airport didn't help, especially when he was used to having the hot Egyptian sun beating down on him.

Blinking until his vision cleared up enough so that he could just make out the giant clock Big Ben in the distance, he forced himself to clear his mind and focus on the job at hand.

As he walked, he passed a deserted alleyway and he hesitated, clutching the folded black material of his cloak closer to his side as he considered using the alleyway to put it back on. At all the airports, when he'd had to show his ID and make his way through crowds upon crowds of people, he'd decided to take the cloak off to keep from drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

He didn't know what kind of network the two men with the cloaks had; if it was really big, then they would have people watching the airports and would already know where he was. For all he knew, it had been their plan all along for Malik to lead them straight to Yugi. If so, Malik was doing exactly what they wanted, but he knew he had to see the pharaoh if he could. Their pharaoh must be warned.

He glanced around at the busy street. No, the cloak would probably attract more attention here than was worth the benefits of having his face concealed. He went on.

Malik wondered for about the hundredth time that day if he was doing the best thing. Perhaps Yugi already knew of this problem and was already investigating. And in any case, would he even be able to find Yugi in this enormous country filled with such a multitude of people?

Exhausted from the long flight and starting to feel rather hungry, Malik realized his first priority for the moment should probably involve getting something to eat. A half-hour break probably wouldn't doom the entire world and he definitely could use one if nothing else than to get his spirits back up. At the moment, _'Nothing you can do, nothing you can do' _was being chanted at him in his head like a funeral march. Malik sighed in frustration.

He stopped in the next café he saw and tentatively took a seat by the window, the furthest one from the other diners. He used his very rudimentary English to figure out what the contents of the menu were and, looking with distaste upon the meat pies and other dishes that he suspected contained other food meant for the more carnivorous members of the human race, he finally settled on some fries, which he figured were probably safe.

After only a few bites, the tomb keeper already began to feel more rejuvenated, so he turned his mind to what his next steps should be.

First of all, it wasn't as though he could just sleep out in the street, so he'd have to find a place to stay. From there, he would start gathering newspapers, and he could watch the news everyday, so that he could get some ideas as to where Yugi might be. After all, his strategy to find Yugi was to go where the trouble was. Of course, trouble was probably everywhere and every incident he heard about might seem suspicious to him, but Malik decided to think about that later.

More importantly, he needed to find himself a translator. He could hope that anything really disastrous would be accompanied by a convenient photo, but that probably wouldn't be the smartest course of action. Malik was starting to wish he'd brought Ishizu along, despite the danger she'd be in. He definitely hadn't thought this through.

Malik shook his head and mentally went on to the next thing. Transportation. Walking would be a far too unhandy way of getting around, so he'd have to rely on taxis, probably. Or he could rent a motorcycle. Malik began to wonder how long the money he'd just had exchanged for London currency was going to last.

Malik took another fry chewing it slowly.

Plus, considering this was probably the base of operations for those cloaks with the masks, Malik would have to keep as low a profile as possible while he was here. The cloak was probably good for some situations, but maybe he should get a real disguise. To start, maybe a cap and a jacket...?

Or, he thought sardonically, maybe a trench coat would do better. With all the people wearing them these days, he might be less conspicuous.

Malik started to reach for his cup of water, but something made him hesitate. Malik leaned over and peered down at it. The water in the paper cup was perfectly still and he was about to shrug it off, but then he saw it again – the water rippled in the cup, then went still once more.

Malik glanced around the room, trying to find out what was causing it. He touched the table and looked at the water again and as it rippled, Malik detected a slight tremor in the table beneath his touch. He realized the chair beneath him was moving too, and then he looked down at his feet to realize the entire ground was vibrating beneath him.

Malik looked around the room again and saw that the other diners and the cashier behind the counter had begun to notice it as well. A confused and frightened babble began to rise in the room.

Though Malik couldn't understand what they were saying, he felt he could probably guess what it was, because he was thinking the same thing.

_'Earthquake.'_

Malik, having lived underground most of his life, wasn't very familiar with world geography, and tried to remember if he'd ever heard anything about London being near a fault line. He didn't know. He also wondered if most earthquakes were start and stop, like this one apparently was. Aftershocks, maybe. Or foreshocks.

_Thoom. Thoom._

Malik heard the sound just at what felt like the very brim of the range of his hearing, and each time he heard it, the water in his cup rippled again. He suddenly had a ominous feeling.

A faraway, high humming sound started up underneath the steady pounding sound and Malik strained his ears, unable to place what it was until it got closer.

Malik realized in horror that it wasn't one sound – it was _many_ sounds, all streaming together. The sound of hundreds of voices screaming in terror. Malik turned his head toward the window and saw people shooting past and running in the streets, all looking positively terrified.

Malik turned his entire body around, trying to see what they were running from and he froze.

A monster, its huge face grotesque and twisted with dimwitted malice, loomed above, the giant feet making cracks in the street with every sluggish step it took. People in the restaurant came to the windows in curiosity to see what was going on soon ducked back the other way again, screaming.

Malik on the other hand just sat there staring, the scene so unreal that he still couldn't find it in him to move as the people in the restaurant made mad dashes to the back, putting as much distance between themselves and the creature as possible. They streamed toward what Malik supposed must lead to a back door somewhere or else broke side windows and climbed out that way, while still others dove behind tables and cowered in booths, hoping the creature would pass them by.

What in the world could it be? Malik wondered. The only thing that made even the slightest sense to Malik was if it was some kind of giant duel monster, brought to life by shadow magic. But if it was, he sure didn't recognize it.

However, Malik suddenly found himself torn from his stunned stupor as he caught sight of several somethings flying along side the giant, coming inevitably closer. From a distance, they had looked like scattered black dots, like stray flies, roaming aimlessly somewhat near the giant's head and arms, attracted by the foul odor, but now Malik could see them for what they were.

Men in black cloaks and white masks which Malik had hoped to never see again flew on what looked like broomsticks. The sound of wild laugher and guffawing seemed to come from behind their masks as they went. Sometimes they zoomed ahead a little ways, but always circled back soon after, as though they were leading the monster on its rampage.

Malik mouth felt dry as he stared in silent horror at the scene for a moment before he abruptly stood. Running to the counter, he threw himself behind it. The cashier must have been one of the ones who'd opted to escape the building, because the area was empty.

Had the cloaks come looking for him? Was that what this was all about? Malik unfolded his cloak as fast as he could and pulled it on, drawing the hood over his head. Maybe they wouldn't recognize him this way, at a distance at least.

_Wham_.

The sound came from nearby – the creature must be right outside, passing by the restaurant –

Malik wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible.

_Wham_. _Wham._

The creature's footsteps reverberated through Malik's whole body and through every piece of furniture in the building each time it brought its enormous foot down. He heard glass shatter and he imagined glass shards raining down on the spot he'd been sitting in earlier.

Malik gritted his teeth and he couldn't keep himself from shivering as though the restaurant had turned to ice.

Suddenly, something large and heavy hit the tile right next to him with a crash. Thinking that the creature had found him and was reaching in with its giant, ugly hand, Malik jerked wildly away, kicking out in a frantic panic. But as his foot hit something hard that didn't move, he stopped flailing enough to look back over his shoulder to see that his attacker, which he'd imagined to be the monster's enormous grasping appendage, was actually the cash register which had apparently fallen off the counter as a result of the mini earthquakes.

Malik slowly moved back to his previous sitting position. He took several deep breaths, then looked around to make sure that nothing else had been placed somewhere it might fall on his unsuspecting head. He was glad the cash register had missed him; 'death by cash register' was certainly not the most heroic end.

Malik waited tensely until the earthquakes weakened to dull thuds, and the laughter of the cloaks faded. He finally allowed himself to relax a little, not realizing how sore his muscles had gotten from sitting so still and trying to hold his breath until then.

But he still wasn't safe. The creature and the cloaked men might still come back. Which meant it was probably about time he got going.

Malik climbed to his feet and jogged to the back of the restaurant, where the kitchen was. Unfortunately, he saw that his assumption that people earlier had been going to a back door was wrong: he saw no door, not even a fire exit. Perhaps the building was too old, or the builders had thought the building was too small to need more than one exit. They probably didn't consider the possibility that a forty-foot monster tearing down the street might make people want to get out on the opposite side of the building.

Instead, Malik went to one of the windows which had already been bashed out, and pulled himself through. He cut his palms on the jagged pieces of glass still in the window and swore quietly, but a bit of blood was the least of his problems, so he went on without further complaint.

He ran through the alleyways, weaving in and out of buildings in a direction almost perpendicular to the path of the monster and masked men. Even when the resounding sound of the monster's own weight cracking the asphalt as it walked and its hands tearing apart buildings it passed moved far into the distance, he didn't stop running.

Malik was gasping for breath by the time all traces of the creature's rampage had all but faded from his hearing. He still didn't stop, but he slowed to walk, holding the stitch in his side. Almost in the clear. He looked over his shoulder in the direction he'd last heard the monster as he rounded a corner.

When he looked back in front of him, he stopped suddenly, frozen.

He'd just entered what seemed to be some kind of construction zone. From the rusted machinery and old, broken materials strewn about the place, it looked like it had been abandoned for some time. Even the yellow tape that read 'Caution' was dirty and tattered, and had fallen down so that it wouldn't be noticed soon enough to keep anyone out. But none of this was what had made Malik stop.

Standing in the center of the debris was a cluster of men. Men dressed in long, black cloaks.

Malik took a staggering step back, then he spun around as he attempted to get away.

Too late – one of the cloaks had already noticed his arrival. Malik heard a series of 'cracks' from behind him and before he could get two yards, the cloaks were suddenly encircling him, cutting off his escape.

They appeared out of nowhere, but by this point Malik wasn't muchsurprised by anything. Nothing seemed beyond the power of the sticks now pointed at him from all directions. Gritting his teeth, Malik slowly brought his hands up in a motion of surrender.

His lavender-gray eyes swept the curving line of cloaked figures in front him, studying each one in turn. Though they didn't have the eerie white skull masks of the two that had attacked his house and the ones he'd seen earlier that day, the figures' long black hoods still threw their eyes into shadow, concealing their identities.

A low raspy voice let out a string of speech in what Malik assumed to be English and another snarled something else. Though Malik didn't understand a word they said, he watched them closely, hoping to possibly pick up on some meaning through their physical gestures, as long as both their words and facial expressions were hidden from him.

Another of the cloaks spoke up, jabbing his stick threateningly in Malik's direction.

Malik, unable to understand, decided he would try to guess the turn of this particular conversation himself. It was probably certainly predictable enough.

_'Let's just kill him,'_ Malik supplied for the stick-jabber.

Another said something, probably replying to what the first had said, and Malik thought, _'No, we should take him in and torture him for information.'_

The first man kicked the ground and waved the stick back and forth in Malik's direction impatiently. The man pulled at the long sleeve on his own arm, glaring hard at their captive. It suddenly occurred to Malik that they were actually speaking to him. Guess that wasn't what they were saying after all.

"You can order me around all you want, but it won't do much good if I don't understand a thing you're saying," Malik said, deciding at a moment's notice to speak in Japanese. No need to announce that he was the same heritage as the one they were looking for.

Some of the cloaks glanced at each, seeming to finally understand the problem. In response, they turned to look back at him and one raised his stick higher. He shouted a few words and a bright purple light shot from its tip.

This brought Malik out of his sarcastic mood in a hurry. To his horror, they had decided to attack him after all. But what would it do to him? Kill him like the other cloaks had tried to, or would they take control of his body like the spirit had?

_'No way.'_ At the last possible second, Malik hurtled himself to the ground and rolled out of the way, the light missing him by inches. He was on his feet again in seconds, dodging out of the way as another light shot toward him. Could he keep this up? The cloaks were shouting with frustration.

Malik fell to his knees, narrowly missing an attack from behind him. He saw the light strike one of the cloaks standing before him, but to his surprise, the man seemed unaffected, besides the way the light dispersed into a cloud of mist, continuing to hang in the air around him. Perhaps it was the controlling one then. No way could he afford to let himself get hit.

Then a deep, gruff voice spoke from behind him, strong and commanding, and before Malik had a chance to look around or see how to dance away from this one, he felt something strike him in the back, right between his shoulder blades.

A cry escaped his lips, though more from shock than pain. He staggered forward several steps, then stayed frozen for several seconds, waiting for something to happen. He breathed deeply, and he smelled something odd in his nostrils, like burnt roses.

After a moment as the cloaks continued to stare at him without doing anything, he wondered what had happened. He tested his fingers and toes, curling and uncurling them, then touching his face with his own hand. There could be no doubt, he was still in control. He turned around to gaze at the cloaks behind him, mystified. His eyes went from one cloak to another as he tried to figure out which one's light had hit him.

Finally, one of the cloaks stepped forward. Malik watched the man carefully, not letting his guard down for a moment as the cloak threw back his long black hood, revealing a deeply scarred face with a lopsided nose that looked as a piece of it had been carved out with a spoon. However, it wasn't these features that made Malik take a instinctive step back as he watched the man nervously.

One of the man's eyes was a normal human eye, but the other was an electric blue that rolled this way and that inside the man's head. He didn't move any closer, but instead trained his regular eye on Malik's face while the alien blue one flickered to Malik's left arm, which Malik realized was raised ridiculously in front of him, as though that would be enough to ward off this attack.

Then the man spoke, each word as clear as crystal to Malik's Arabian ears, "And who, exactly, might _you_ be, Boy?"

* * *

Down, down, down they went, through layers upon layers of solid rock. When the reality of what was happening began to dawn on Harry, a thrill of horror shot through him and he thrashed wildly, trying to free himself from whatever it was closed around his torso. Or at least he tried to thrash, but he found he couldn't move. He attempted to yell at the others to find out if the same things was happening to them, but whatever the thing was, it had gained a tight clamp over his jaw as well as the rest of his body.

He tried to calm himself a little so he could think clearly. He glanced around him and the rocks rushing past told him they were speeding along underground. Trying desperately to get to his wand, he cursed himself for having left it in his pocket instead of having it out, but he couldn't move an inch. He could only shake his head very slightly from side to side and shake his feet sticking out the other side of his prison. Gritting his teeth, he fought wildly to get free, but his body still didn't move.

"Don't panic," came a disembodied voice from the darkness that Harry recognized as Bakura's. "We're almost there."

Then, abruptly, he found himself free from the trap. He was falling, falling...

"Oomph!" He landed hard on a stone surface, the wind knocked from his lungs.

Harry heard similar grunts of protest from Hermione and Ron nearby.

Harry breathed deeply and forced himself to sit up despite the pain in his back and elbow. Looking around as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw Ron and Hermione sprawled out on the floor attempting feebly to right themselves.

Yugi sat a little ways away with a hand pressed to his head and a displeased expression on his face, also not fully recovered from the landing. He lifted his head a little to glare at Bakura, who stood seemingly unaffected nearby.

"When you're ready and you've all had time to recover, let's get going," said Bakura. "Remember, we have quite a long walk ahead of us."

"Recover, yeah right," Ron muttered. "I'm going to be feeling this for a week."

"Hold on," said Harry, trying to get his bearings back. "What just happened?"

"Never mind," answered Bakura vaguely, shaking his head as though he used spells to break into well-guarded wizarding banks everyday and they were too simple to be very relevant. "We are in now, aren't we?"

Harry frowned and, struggling with himself, decided to let it go. For now. He had learned over time that, like Dumbledore, people inclined to be mysterious about things rather than just explain them would only explain when they felt like it. Instead, Harry looked over at Hermione. "Did you bring them?" he asked.

Hermione nodded, looking just as shaken as Harry felt. "Yes, just like you said."

"Hermione brought our brooms," Harry explained. "We thought they might come in handy."

Ron's eyes lit up. "You did? _Excellent!_"

Bakura nodded. "Yes, good thinking. Did you bring enough for everyone?"

Hermione nodded as she dug through the same purse in which she'd been keeping their food. "Just enough – Harry said we'd better bring Ron's brothers older brooms too in case something happened to our regular ones. We were only able to find three – Oh, here they are."

"There were only three to start with," Ron assured her. "There used to be four, though. Two of them were the first ones Fred and George ever got, and then the next two were the ones they got when those others got kind of old and hard to fly. But one of the older ones got flown into a tree and never flew right afterwards, so Mum got rid of it."

"You flew one into a tree, huh?" Harry commented perceptively, but was distracted as Hermione handed him his Firebolt. It felt good to hold it again, like being reunited with a long lost friend.

"I didn't say it was me..." Ron muttered as he took his own Cleansweep Eleven from Hermione.

Hermione handed out the three remaining broomsticks, taking the oldest and most beat-up one for herself.

Yugi took his broom and looked at it uncertainly.

Harry glanced at the younger Gryffindor, and remembered that since he'd come so late in the year, he'd probably never flown before.

Harry shrugged to himself and, swinging his leg over the handle of the Firebolt, kicked off from the floor at the same time Ron did. Only Hermione was kind enough to leave Yugi with a few instructions, though in truth, she probably wasn't much better at flying a broom than Yugi. For all her book knowledge and skill with spells, Hermione wasn't much of a flier.

Harry looked ahead to see Bakura in front of them, hovering steadily above the ground.

"I heard you're afraid of heights," Ron told Bakura a little smugly, though the usual edge of dislike he had always had in his tone when speaking to the shy Slytherin first year was absent. Apparently, Ron had been affected more by Bakura's little speech earlier than Harry would have thought thought.

"I had a little trouble with my first flight," Bakura admitted. "I think in was my own senseless fear that handicapped me the most. But I'm not afraid now."

Harry didn't know why, but something in the tone of Bakura's voice and the way the boy had said "my own senseless fear" made it sound as though Bakura was deriding himself. Confused, Harry decided to shrug it off.

Finally, everyone was in the air with Yugi looking slightly nervous, but stable. Bakura, taking a deep breath said, "All right everyone, let's go – "

"Wait!" Hermione called from her place in the air below them. "Maybe we should mark the wall here, and mark our trail as we go along so we'll know where we've been."

"That's a good idea," Harry said and Ron nodded. They were probably both equally keen on any idea that would lessen the chance they'd end up eternally lost in this labyrinth.

Hermione was already going over to the wall nearby when to everyone's surprise Bakura said sharply, "No."

They all turned to look at him and the white-haired teen went on, "Too risky. Don't forget, many people as well as the creatures running this place come down here to get things from the safes. Although it's unlikely we'll run into any of them in this large of an area, for the distance we'll be covering it wouldn't be unlikely for them to run across our trail – and the last thing we need is for anyone to realize we're here and follow that trail right to us."

Ron deflated, but Harry said, "Then let's just mark our starting point."

Bakura shook his head. "Again, it's unlikely they would come across it, but we don't want to leave any kind of evidence of our presence. Besides, there's no need, really. I will get us out." He spoke with a confidence uncharacteristic of Bakura.

"Well... okay..." Harry said uncertainly as Hermione moved away from the wall. He trusted Bakura in a way, but he wasn't sure he really trusted the naïve boy to navigate this maze.

As soon as Bakura had turned his back to them and begun to fly away, Harry moved surreptitiously toward the wall with his wand, thinking he'd just scorch the tiniest symbol there – surely no one would notice just one little sign – but Bakura called back without turning around, something like a smile in his tone, "Don't even think about it."

Sighing, Harry took one last glance at the bare wall which looked remarkably like every other wall in the entire maze before reluctantly following.

"Relax," Ron said as they flew along. "Even if we could find our way back to where we started later, do you really think we'd be able to find the way out of this place? We came in through the _ceiling_. If Bakura can't do that trick again, we'll never get out."

"Thanks, that makes me feel loads better," Harry muttered, but he knew Ron was right. Sighing once again, he turn his eyes to the ground below them. The rails that carried the little box car to all parts of the underground that Harry had once ridden in for the first time seven years ago rushed past below him. He remembered the goblin guide and the horrible complexity of the maze, knowing how you could get lost down there for years, until nothing but your skeleton was left as a warning to other trespassers...

Harry shivered. Now _they_ were the trespassers. As Bakura took a sharp turn which they all scrambled to follow, Harry really hoped that Bakura knew where he was going.

Ron must have been thinking the same thing, because at that moment he called up to Bakura, "Uh, you _do_ know where we're going, right?"

"Trust me" was Bakura's only not particularly reassuring response.

Bakura took several more turns until Harry didn't think he could have found his way back to where they'd started if he'd had a hundred years to look. And Ron had been right – he knew that even if by some miracle he found his way back to where they'd started, he would never find the entrance. Their lives were totally in Bakura's hands – or perhaps, more accurately, in his sense of direction.

Harry shuddered.

Bakura went quickly around several more corners, changing direction in the blink of an eye and leaving Harry and the rest to play an impossible game of 'follow the leader.' After a particularly sharp turn, Harry was about to call up to Bakura, demanding to know if the first year Slytherin was _trying_ to lose them, when Bakura reached another split-off in the passage, a main passage with a turn-off which he seemed about to take, he stopped so abruptly that Harry almost ran into him. Ron actually went shooting past down the main corridor while Hermione and Yugi, who had been straggling behind for some time, struggled to keep their balance as they stopped as quickly as they could.

Bakura was staring straight down the wide passage, unblinking.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, trying to maneuver his Firebolt around Bakura so he could see what Bakura was seeing. "Why did you stop?"

"Well, that certainly wasn't there before," Bakura muttered.

"What are you – ?" Harry began, but he stopped as he saw it. By that time, Ron had managed to come back from his overshot, and Yugi and Hermione had come up to hover beside him.

"Blimey," Ron said meekly as they all just stared in disbelief down the dungeon passage.

Deadly yellow eyes stared back. Its long teeth gleamed white, its red scales shifting subtly in the dim light with sparkling flecks of gold, its leathery wings folded close to its body so that it could fit in the confined space – every part of the enormous creature blocking the corridor screamed danger.

"We have to go another way," Harry whispered, hoping against hope the dragon – a giant Chinese Fireball not unlike the one Victor Krum had fought – would let them leave peacefully. The monster's body took up the whole space of the passage and it didn't look like it could move too well. Except Harry could imagine only too easily those clawed hands and feet tearing apart the walls and ceiling as it moved its powerful body to attack them. And it looked hungry.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Bakura shake his head.

"We can't," Bakura said simply.

"_Why not_?" Harry hissed, feeling an edge of irritation within his growing panic. "Can't you find the way going a different path?"

"It's not that," Bakura said calmly. "Of course I could find an alternate route – it's just that this corridor happens to be where our destination is."

Ron swore.

"What do we do?" Hermione whispered, while Harry grimaced.

"Forget about it," Ron said, keeping his voice low. "There's no way I'm going face to face with that – "

But at that moment, the dragon shifted its huge body and cocked it's head at them, as though it was getting bored. They all went silent, but the dragon didn't take its eyes off them.

"Like I said," Ron said, his voice barely audible this time, "_Let's get out of here_. We'll wait around and come back later to see it its moved."

"It might never move at all," Hermione pointed out very quietly. "And I didn't bring an unlimited amount of supplies, you know."

"Bakura," Harry said, his voice so soft he could barely hear it himself, "can you do that trick you did to get us in here again? If so, maybe we should retreat for now and then come back in a few days."

"Maybe..." said Bakura, but he didn't look very happy with the idea. He was still looking at the dragon with a slight frown on his face, as though the dragon was merely an unexpected annoyance ruining his plans. For someone who'd apparently been so afraid of dying, Harry didn't think the boy was expressing the proper amount of terror.

"Okay then," said Harry, suddenly aware that everyone except Bakura was looking at him to decide what to do. "Let's do that. We'll go and come back later."

Harry focused all his attention on the dragon. They were all afraid to move, but they had to get away. "Okay," Harry whispered. "On the count of three, we're all going to move slowly – _very_ slowly back that way." His eyes went to the corridor they'd just come from. "Everybody got that? Okay... Ready. One, two – "

So intent on seeing if the dragon would make a move on them or not, the three sixth year Gryffindors didn't see the blurring motion of a trench coat beside them. All they saw was, before Harry had a chance to say 'three,' the creature with all its weight and power suddenly bearing down on them.

It moved far faster that Harry had even imagined, its body sliding gracefully through the passage and in seconds, it towered over them.

Pure adrenaline shot through him as Harry felt the monstrous power and might of the creature through his whole body. Harry barely had to touch his Firebolt before he was shooting off down the passage, keeping to their plan to go back the way they'd come.

But as the moment of utter fear passed and Harry began to come back to his senses, he remembered that the others weren't as good of fliers as he and Ron and that their brooms weren't as good either. He shouldn't be running – he should be trying to distract the beast so the others could get away.

Cursing himself, Harry forced himself to slow down and he turned around in midair. His blood turned cold at what he saw.

The dragon had made it to the place they'd been moments before, its large body blocking the entire turnoff. Ron and Bakura were nowhere in sight, while it seemed Yugi had somehow managed to get behind the dragon, out of its line of vision. The dragon wasn't paying attention to them or Harry, but it was far from being a good thing as the dragon had found something else to distract it.

Hermione sat right in front of the beast, almost directly below the dragon's enormous head, with her back against the wall. She looked sort of dazed, as though she'd hit her head. Her broom lay broken and useless a short ways away, part of the handle caught beneath one of the dragon's immense claws. Hermione pulled out her wand, her eyes still unfocused as she shouted some kind of spell. But the spell hit far from what Harry guessed to be the intended target, the dragon's vulnerable eye, harmlessly bouncing off the creature's thick armor.

The monster opened its jaws to reveal rows upon rows of sharp yellow teeth, each tooth as long as Harry's wand. Fire began to dance in its mouth as the Chinese Fireball prepared to cook its meal alive.

"HERMIONE!" Harry bellowed as he shot down the corridor toward the dragon and his friend, his hand stretched out in front of him. But he was too far away. He'd never make it in time – He could not help but think that if only Yugi had been a good flier, he could have helped –

They were some of the longest seconds of his life as Harry raced along the corridor, desperate as he had ever felt. He took in everything – the dragon's cold, hungry yellow eyes, Hermione's face frozen in a look of stunned shock as she began to see where she was and fear began to sink in, Yugi moving just out of sight, not toward Hermione, but away...

But then, just as it seemed too late to prevent the terrible thing about to happen, a blinding light engulfed the whole corridor. A stunning array of colors twisted and danced until they came together to form something solid, and the shadow of something incredible loomed up behind the dragon. And the creature that had a moment before seemed an unstoppable force hesitated.

"_**However, if there is a guardian of the tomb, there must also be a thief to rob the tomb." **_

Another long chapter... Sorry if I wasn't as careful in the proofreading/editing this time. I figured it was better to put the chapter out faster and not be so obsessive. XD At least it was less than a year this time, right?

Anyway, we're finally to the chapters I've always thought of in my head as 'the Gringotts chapters.' Haha, I remember first working on these in the spring of tenth grade, sitting on the lawn next to the school building drawing little maps with a dragon on it and jotting down notes, while noise from the outdoor assembly going on in the distance drifted back across the track field to me... Ah, great times. Now I'm about to graduate with my bachelor's degree and here I am, still working on this fanfiction. XD!

Thank you all so, so much for all the reviews and for being patient with me. Please r and r! (:

posted 2/4/12


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